#fic: avs

[wyattjohnston]

you always did feel just like home - nathan mackinnon

summary: valorie hadn't meant to be away from nova scotia for so long, and she hadn't meant to immediately insert herself back into nate's life. mysterious how the universe works.

word count: 11,365

warning: not exactly healthy alcohol consumption

note: it is finally time for me to put my money where my mouth is and post my exchange fic instead of just bothering everybody else! this is written for the winter fic exchange 2k23 and i wrote it for cait (hey @blueskrugs that's you)! i hope you like it! thanks to @matthewtkachuk, @comphy-and-cozy @farbutnevergone & @laurenairay who have all provided feedback as this grew to be a lot longer than anticipated.

playlist: | looking back - parachute | wait - knuckle puck | longshot - catfish and the bottlemen | selfish - the kite string tangle | i'm in love with you - the 1975 |

Valorie hadn’t intended to be late and it meant that she was immediately the centre of attention when she walked into the café. She spotted the table of her friends that was discretely to the side and out of the way, though that discretion flew out the window when Amber and Valorie squealed as they saw each other.

They rushed to close the distance, throwing their arms around one another in a hug that only remained upright because Mike was standing close enough by to keep them that way. Valorie, after pulling away from Amber, greeted Mike with a more subdued but no less friendly hug.

Neither Mike nor Amber were who she’d noticed first, though, because the third person at the table was Nathan MacKinnon and he was a man who was impossible to miss.

Despite how much she wanted to step forward and greet him in the exact same way, Valorie wasn’t sure where the boundaries were, so she opted for saying, “I would have thought you’d be far too good to hang out with us lowly commoners.”

Nate smirked, looking as if he’d been expecting it, but it wasn’t him who spoke next.

“We haven’t seen you half as much as him in the last seven years,” Mike said, thumping his hand across Nate’s broad chest. Valorie was momentarily distracted by just how broad it was; those years had been very good to him.

Mike continued, “Dogg knows where he came from.”

“Yes, yes, I’m the worst,” Valorie said with an eyeroll as she pushed everyone back to their seats. Nate paused for long enough that Valorie greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Valorie sat opposite Nate, tucking her legs underneath her own chair to avoid accidentally entangling them with his—the length of his was a memory firmly engrained in her mind.

Immediately it became clear that the conversation was not going to trend towards the Cup like she’d been hoping. It was far and away the most exciting thing she could think of for any of them to talk about, but she supposed that everyone had had the same thought since Nate arrived back in Nova Scotia.

Instead, Amber lifted Valorie’s wrist to get a closer inspection of the bracelet she was wearing and the boys leant in, too.

“Got to keep the jewellery, I see,” Amber said, her voice slightly awed. Valorie couldn’t blame her.

“Everything but the car,” Valorie said. “It would have been useless up here anyway. Definitely not meant for winter tyres.”

“You should have kept it and flipped it,” Mike said, tapping against the table in thought. “An Audi, wasn’t it?”

“Porsche.”

Mike whistled low and impressed, Nate’s eyebrow twitched—Valorie almost missed it—and he leaned back in his seat. Valorie could only imagine what cars Nate was driving around Colorado or Nova Scotia. As nice as her Porsche was, she was sure it paled in comparison.

Valorie pulled back her hand, hiding it away under the table to stop Amber playing with it any longer.

“You still wear what he bought you?” Nate asked, his voice curiously tight as his eyes flicked between her face and where the bracelet was hidden under the table.

Valorie thought for a moment, cataloguing everything she had put on that morning. “I think everything I’m wearing was a gift from him. It wasn’t a bad break up; no bad memories associated with any of it.”

Until that moment, Valorie had been perfectly comfortable with the idea of it—her entire wardrobe had been bought by her ex so she didn’t have much choice anyway, but under Nate’s careful gaze every inch of fabric felt suffocatingly heavy.

“Why did you break up?” Amber asked. “It sounds perfect.”

“I wanted to come home,” Valorie answered simply, one shoulder rising in a shrug as she tried to casually avoid eye contact with her friends.

“He had enough money; you could have come home whenever you wanted.”

“What? You think I’ve been back, like, twice in seven years because that’s what I wanted?” Valorie asked, somewhat viciously, directing her words and the accompanying glare at Mike. “There was always someone to meet, something to do, somewhere to be and I couldn’t ever get away. I missed home.”

Mike, rightfully chastened, lowered himself down in his chair just enough to let Valorie know he regretted what he’d said. Nate and Amber were sitting in an awkward silence and Valorie had to speak just to move them along.

She continued, “And I was bored as hell. I was asked if I’d be interested in the Real Housewives of Miami reboot and if I stayed much longer I would have said yes just to have something to do.”

Amber’s laugh was raucous, eliciting the same from Valorie, and she said, “You’re too young to be on that show.”

“That’s most of the reason I said no!” Valorie shrieked, still laughing. “That and I was actually a housewife? The other women on that show have, like, careers and are important and aren’t just sitting at home complaining about doing yoga.”

“I’d watch a show that was you doing yoga.”

Three heads turned to Nate, all barking out surprised laughs at his deadpan voice accompanied by the casual expression that remained on his face—almost as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

Mike thumped Nate across the chest, as he’d done earlier, and said, “We all know you would, Nate.”

“That’s really it, though?” Nate pressed on, not even looking at Mike as he thumped him back, “You couldn’t come up with a schedule where you got to come home more?”

“It wasn’t going to work,” Valorie said firmly. Nate tilted his head but was kind enough to not press her any further.

Despite all the talk of Valorie living a lavish lifestyle, when it came to ordering food she was conservative with her money. She didn’t have a choice when that money was coming out of her own, not very large bank account. It didn’t matter in the end, because Nate quickly took over and promised that he’d pay after ordering a ludicrous amount of food all the while flicking his gaze to Valorie every few seconds.

After they’d finished eating—having spent so long that it was clear they were only being allowed to stay because they were with Nate—Mike and Amber hurried off before they were late to see Amber’s parents, leaving Nate and Valorie on the sidewalk out the front.

“Where are you living?” Nate asked, his keys twirling in his hands. “Do you want a ride?”

Valorie nodded, surprised but please, “Oh, yeah, thank you. I’m staying with my parents. They haven’t moved.”

He didn’t say anything as he started moving towards the parking lot behind the café. It hadn’t changed much since they were 16, slowly walking back to Nate’s second-hand truck after a date neither of them really wanted to end.

“You’re back with your parents?”

“I haven’t had a job in seven years, nobody will hire me, and nobody will let me lease a house without pay cheques so…”

“That’s rough.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. Nate’s face screwed up, so she added, “I still get on with my parents so it’s really fine.”

The Porsche Cayenne he led her to wasn’t so much a surprise, given the dealership that would have jumped at the chance to have one of their vehicles driven by Stanley Cup Champion Nathan MacKinnon—it was, however, a reminder of the 911 she’d left behind in Miami.

Of everything she’d left behind in Miami.

They were sitting in the Cayenne out the front of Valorie’s parents’ house, her hand on the door handle, when Nate said, “I’ve got room at my place if you want it.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Nate,” she smiled back at him, appreciative, “but I don’t have any money to pay rent.”

Valorie opened the door and looked back into the car when she was standing upright, to thank Nate for dropping her off.

“I don’t need rent from you.”

“Nate.”

“Just say the word, Val.”

Moving into one of Nate’s spare bedrooms was easier than Valorie had anticipated; Nate picked her up a few days after he dropped her at her parents’ home in Crichton Park, loaded some bags into the trunk and unloaded them into a bedroom with a lake front view in Grand Lake.

He’d declared that everything in the house was hers if she wanted it and raised a challenging eyebrow when she walked into the wine room and declared that she’d start with the most expensive bottle and work her way down—she knew exactly which one it was, too, even with a cursory glance at the bottles lining the walls.

“It’s probably not as nice where you lived in Miami,” Nate said as he finished the tour.

Valorie laughed, “The lovely Mediterranean Revival home that he gutted and turned into a Hypermodern nightmare so the inside and the outside clashed? The one that didn’t even have a view of the beach? I’ll miss a lot of things about Miami but that house is not one of them.”

“I didn’t know you cared about that stuff.”

“Architecture?” she clarified, waiting for Nate’s slow nod before she shrugged. “I had a lot of time to kill.”

Valorie spent most of that first day on the deck overlooking Grand Lake, it wasn’t quite warm enough for her to venture into the pool, but it was perfect to just sit and watch the water and the occasional jet-skier zip past.

Nate left her to her own devices for what might have been a few hours before he joined her and started asking questions about what she’d like for dinner so that he could head to the store.

“You gonna cook for me, Dogg?” Valorie asked, tilting her head over the back of the chair so that she could see Nate properly. “What if I want risotto?”

There was a brief moment where it looked like Nate’s brain short-circuited before he collected himself and said, “I can offer you steak or chicken breast. Salad or vegetables.”

“So many options,” Valorie said, a small laugh in her voice, as she pushed herself off the chair. “If you cook the steak, I’ll make the salad.”

“Sorry, there aren’t more options.”

“Two more than I’d be able to offer.”

The admission didn’t seem to surprise Nate, who just accepted what Valorie had said without question—Mike and Amber had surely passed on a few things about Valorie’s time in Miami and the chef she had was one of their favourite thing to bring up.

Valorie used Nate going to the store as an opportunity to wander through the house. It wasn’t as large as she was expecting, so it didn’t take very long at all—especially not when she avoided Nate’s bedroom out of respect for his privacy. She opened every cupboard in the kitchen, just to make sure she knew where everything was kept, and then unloaded the dishwasher when it beeped at her incessantly. In the fridge was an open bottle of sparkling red wine, so Valorie helped herself to a glass on the balcony while she waited for Nate to return.

The calmness of Nova Scotia was something Valorie had forgotten she’d missed until she was back; even in the height of summer, with the excitement of the Cup coming back, she was more relaxed than she’d ever been in Miami.

When Nate returned Valorie greeted him with a big smile as she raised the wine she’d poured herself—her second of the afternoon—and he returned it without hesitation.

She continued to drink as they made dinner, her easy and boring salad taking no time at all, and Nate cracked a beer while he grilled and then opened a new bottle of wine for them as they ate on the balcony overlooking the lake as the sun slowly began to set.

Despite the view she had—she’d been staring at it all day, after all—Valorie couldn’t help but watch Nate as he ate, mostly scrutinising the lines of his face that were so much different to what she once knew.

“You keep looking at me like you don’t believe I exist,” Nate said. Valorie didn’t even flinch; another two glasses of wine making her particularly carefree.

“I don’t know if I do,” she admitted, sighing as she realised that even his voice had changed. “I’ve seen you on the TV and in photos and everything but for the past seven years the image of you in my head has always been you the last summer I saw you. You were a kid and now you’re a man and I really don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Yeah,” Nate agreed, his voice a lot softer and more serious than it had been. “I know. I get it.”

Amber and Mike came over to spend time on the lake not too long into Valorie’s time with Nate. It was a perfect day, which Valorie had come to expect, and being out on the Sea Doos was the perfect way to spend it.

It was nice to have company.

Nate had taken to visiting his parents’ house if he was going to see them. He always offered for Valorie to join him, but that felt like it was encroaching on boundaries she wasn’t even sure they’d set. She’d tried, though, to get him to invite them over only to be met with a shake of the head—maybe he was worried about different boundaries being breached. Valorie didn’t know.

Amber and Mike were good company, at least. Valorie was always happy that Amber had stuck by her even when she wasn’t around. Mike… Mike she could take or leave depending on the day.

“Why’d you really leave what’s-his-face?” Mike asked, apropos of nothing and a few beers deep.

Amber glared at him, though it went unnoticed. Nate sat up a little straighter and Valorie couldn’t work out if it was Mike-related or Nick-related.

“I already told you,” Valorie said, forcing a polite twinge into her voice even if she was dreading whatever might come next.

“Yeah, but there’s gotta be more to it,” Mike argued.

“Why?”

“I love this place, but if Amber wanted to move to, I don’t know, LA and never come back I’d do it in a heartbeat. And with the money you had? Easiest decision I’ll ever make.”

“He doesn’t want kids,” she relented, though it was not without steeliness as she tried to put a definitive end to the topic. “No amount of money was worth not being a mom.”

“That’s some serious self-control,” Mike said, shaking his head almost as if he was in awe. “I can think of a lot of things I’d give up for the life you were living.”

“It’s all Valorie ever wanted,” Nate said, his voice deep and low. “She was born to be a mom.”

Valorie’s gaze moved slowly to Nate as she replayed the words in her mind. He hadn’t moved from how he’d been sitting at the start of the conversation, hadn’t even looked away from Mike. She wanted him to look at her, to make eye contact to be able to get a read on him; to see if the skip it caused in her heartbeat was for an actual reason.

“It took you seven years with this guy to work out you were on a different page?” Mike asked incredulously, earning a half-hearted shrug from Valorie who looked back to him with hesitation.

“He said he was undecided. I loved him, you know? I was willing to wait it out in the hopes that kids would be on the table.”

Mike then agreed, “I’d wait seven years if I spent the entire time being a trophy wife.”

“It wasn’t about all the material possessions,” she snapped. “I know that’s what it looked like, but I’m upset you all think I’m a gold digger.”

“If the Louboutins fit,” Mike said with an eyebrow waggle.

“We know you aren’t a gold digger,” Amber said, finally, and firmly, contributing to the conversation, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”

Mike leaned back in his chair, pointed up at Nate’s house watching over them and said, rather loudly, “Right into Nate’s sweet digs.”

His loudness was met with silence, thick and tense, and the three people that stared at him didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Do you even like me, Mike?” Valorie asked, tired.

“Come on, Val. I’m just joking around.” He added, after a hearty hunk across the back of the head courtesy of Nate, “I’ll cool it.”

The weather had turned quite quickly and quite dramatically—what had been the perfect weather the week prior had turned so miserable that Valorie was looking out the floor to ceiling windows as if her death stare could part the black clouds.

Nate was somewhere on the island doing something hockey related that he’d told Valorie about the night before while she was half asleep on the couch, so she was, once again, left in the house to her own devices.

A second car had appeared in the garage a couple of days after her arrival and Nate had assured her that she could drive it whenever she needed; Valorie was going to avoid driving it as long as she could.

The wine room was taking more of a hit than Valorie had expected when she’d joked with Nate about drinking it all; she had very few places to go, and her mother was more than happy to drive to Grand Lake to pick her up if there were family plans so she rarely had to drive, so the day drinking was getting more out of hand than she wanted to admit. It was a similar problem to Miami, she was realising, but Nate’s house wasn’t filled with quite so many time-wasting objects and there was only so much baking she could do when Nate rarely had any visitors.

Her response to the door opening had become Pavlovian, especially since being confined inside by the rain. Valorie was on her feet, pretending to walk to the kitchen to refill her glass of red, so that she’d be able to start a conversation with Nate when he walked in.

Only, it wasn’t Nate.

“Uh… Sidney. Hi. Nate’s not here. I’m Valorie—Val,” she said, all in a rush, putting her glass on the counter and desperately hoping she didn’t have red teeth.

“Nice to see you again, Val,” Sidney said, polite and friendly. “Nate told me to let myself in; he’ll be back soon.”

The shock and awe Valorie felt being around Sidney—Sid—had disappeared after exactly one summer of learning that he was nowhere near as cool as she had built him up to be. That being said, she had not expected him to remember her for a second.

“Do you want some cookies?” she asked, quickly, noticing that Sid was hovering uncertainly. “I made way too many.”

Sid smiled, nodded, and sat down at one of the bar stools on the other side of the counter while Valorie plated up an assortment of ginger snaps, Florentines, sugar cookies and Afghan biscuits all while trying not to let the wine she’d been drinking rattle her.

“Killing the boredom of being stuck inside all day?” Sid asked, drawing the plate towards him and inspecting his choices as if she was going to stop him at one.

“It’s what I do and what I’ve done for years now.” Valorie shrugged. “I drink and I bake.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I say that sounds… underwhelming.”

“Oh, no!” Valorie gasped instantly. “I mean, I got really into yoga and reading, too. I wasn’t just some boozy housewife. I love to bake, though. I could do it all day. Wine?”

Sid agreed to a glass, and Valorie pretended that she didn’t know he was doing it so she wouldn’t be drinking alone.

“Are you happy to be back here? Back home?” Sid asked around a not-yet-finished mouthful of ginger snap. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

It was, to say the least, unnerving to have Sidney Crosby—anybody, really—sitting across from her and calling her out for being gone. They weren’t friends, like Amber and Mike, or whatever else, like Nate, and she couldn’t wrap her head around why he would care to bring it up.

She took a healthy sip of her wine, savouring the taste for longer than was strictly necessary and said, “I was always trying to get back. It just never… It was hard to get away. I’m glad to be back.”

“I’m sure the island is happy to have you back,” he said, removing the unease in Valorie’s stomach flawlessly as he looked out over the deck to the lake. “Sorry the weather didn’t hold up for you.”

“It was nice for a while,” she conceded, following Sid’s eyes, “and at least it’s the same all day. I was really not impressed by Miami deciding there was a torrential downpour every afternoon after the perfect morning. Seven years there and I never got used to it.”

Valorie moved their conversation to the couch, carrying the wine with her while Sid carried the cookies he was slowly making his way through. She let Sid talk about his off-season plans, to what he’d already done since returning to Nova Scotia, noting that he was absolutely downplaying the vacation he and Kathy had taken and skipping over the extraordinarily nice or expensive parts. She loved Antigua, knew it inside and out, but was happy to let Sid tell her what he thought was appropriate—he may have been happy to ask her why she’d been gone so long but it was clear not much more information than that had made it his way.

By the time Nate was home—his definition of ‘soon’ stretching Valorie’s just a little—she was desperate to just be anywhere that wasn’t near anyone, not just Sid and the way he knew too much yet absolutely nothing. She excused herself within moments to use the bathroom, heading downstairs to her ensuite.

On her way down the staircase, she heard, the beginning of their conversation:

“Val was just filling me in on her time in Miami.”

“She really enjoyed it, right? It sounds great.”

“That’s… one way to put it.”

Walking through Halifax with Nate by her side was an experience. He’d mentioned it in passing, that people were more interested in him than normal, but Valorie hadn’t taken it to mean it was quite so relentless.

Kids wanted their jerseys autographed, everyone wanted a photo and every other person wanted to stand there on the street with Nate and listen to him recount his entire career from Bantam to what training he’d been doing since he got back to Nova Scotia.

Their trip into Halifax had been for no reason other than the sudden realisation by Nate that Valorie hadn’t left the house in an alarming amount of time outside of her new part-time job at one of the local hobby stores, so it wasn’t like the constant stopping was preventing them from doing anything in particular.

It was, however, resulting in Valorie entering a lot of stores that she otherwise had no intention of going into just so that people could gush over Nate. And at least one purchase of a dress she didn’t need.

One person who stopped them was a classmate from high school who stopped them to question Valorie about her disappearance just as much as she stopped to gush over Nate. Valorie didn’t even remember her name and the woman hadn’t taken the time to introduce herself.

“It’s so cute that you’re back for Nate, though,” she said. “I always knew you guys would end up in the same place.”

“Well, that place is home for us, so.”

“Oh, I know, but I heard all about you in Miami and obviously Nate’s making magic in Denver so it’s just nice to see you two in the same place again.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Nate said, nodding even as he was subtly moving out of her way and directing Valorie in the same direction. “We’ve gotta head off, though. It was great to see you again.”

“Of course, sorry! You must be so busy! We should definitely catch up!”

There was more nodding and agreeing as they walked past her, Valorie checking back over her shoulder quickly in one last attempt to help her remember?”

“What was her name?” she asked Nate when they were well out of earshot.

Nate admitted easily, his face lighting up with a guilty smile, “No fucking idea.”

Valorie walked into him as she laughed, unable to control herself as it erupted from her mouth. Nate laughed, too, the guilt shifting from his face and they were holding each other up on the sidewalk as they struggled to breath.

The laughter continued, albeit subdued, as they made their way to the one thing they’d agreed upon getting: ice cream. It was an otherwise peaceful work, seemingly already having run into everyone who wanted a few minutes of Nate’s time.

Being out in public with Nate was different to being alone with him at home, Valorie noticed, and it was different to how they’d been as teenagers. He always carried himself with a confidence that was beyond him in years, almost a quiet arrogance as he always knew where he was going to end up—Valorie would have given anything to know when the arrogance disappeared. Was it because of the Cup win? His accomplishment proof enough that he was everything he ever said he was going to be. Was it seasons earlier when it didn’t look as clear?  

At the ice cream shop, Nate ordered Butterscotch ripple and then laughed under his breath as Valorie ordered Maple Walnut.

“Why is that funny?”

“You’re so Canadian.”

Noting the children around, Valorie glared at him, mouthing ‘fuck you’ before she continued out loud, “I’m going to enjoy all the maple flavoured things. You can’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I will laugh at you, though.”

They sat on a table out the front, Nate saying hello to a few starstruck kids as they did so.

“What are you staring at?” Valorie asked, her cheeks warming up under Nate’s watchful eye.

“Just wanted to see if you were still a psycho who bites their ice cream.”

Valorie made direct eye contact with him and bit into the top of her ice cream, causing Nate to shudder dramatically.

Halifax was bustling in a way that Valorie had never seen. The decision to not have the parade in Cole Harbor was purposeful, a clear differentiation from Sid’s parades and a nice thank you to Halifax for his time with the Mooseheads.

She made her way through the crowd unimpeded, even as she headed towards the rooftop she’d been told to head to near the end of the parade route, overlooking City Hall.

Nate had let Valorie know that it was where Sid would be, hidden out of sight—a decision he’d made himself. He hadn’t even relented when Nate, drunkenly, begged him to be beside him; Valorie was grateful that Sid had the awareness to decline.

Sid was already at the rooftop with Kathy, set up with a table, chairs and some food and drink to get them through the parade and the speech Nate was going to give after.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” Valorie said sheepishly, unsure if Nate had told them she’d be there. “This is where they sent me.”

“More than okay.” Sid pulled up a chair from the group of them nearby. “You didn’t want to be down there with him?”

Valorie stepped to the edge of the roof, taking in the swathes of people lined along the streets. Sid and Kathy were both watching her curiously as she turned back to them and took a seat, putting Sid in the middle.

“It wouldn’t feel right. Nate and I aren’t anything, you know.”

“That’s not true, though, is it?” Sid asked. “Or you’d be in the crowd, not up here.”

Valorie froze in her seat, only her eyes moving to follow Sid’s hand as it disappeared beside him and came back with a cooler bag that he pulled wine from.

“Do you moonlight as a shrink?”

“For Nate, yeah, I feel like I do.” He carried on, no beats missed, “I don’t have red, will white do?”

It played in her mind as she drank her wine and ate from the platter that had been set up. Nate hadn’t offered for her to be by his side—she would have turned it down immediately even if he had—and when he’d suggested she sit with Sid it felt, to her, that was the next best thing.

She wasn’t overly talkative during the wait, choosing to just stare out over the edge of the roof at the other side of the street and the people who were in nearly chaotically good spirits. She was hearing vague parts of the conversations Sid and Kathy were having, and answering questions when asked, but for the most part she was lost in the magic of the Stanley Cup being back in Nova Scotia.

Valorie had been in Cole Harbour for Sid’s 2009 Cup Parade as a small and spindly 13-year-old, watching the Cup from a distance.

That morning she’d been able to run her fingers across the engraved names.

“Is it the happiest you’ve ever been?” Valorie asked, not even bothering to quieten her voice so that Kathy wouldn’t hear. “He doesn’t talk about it as much as I thought he would.”

Sid shifted his entire body to face her and Valorie immediately felt like she was about to get a talking to; she forced herself not to shrink.

“If you want him to talk about it you have to let him know he can. I promise you he won’t shut up about it.”

“Oh. Does he think I don’t care? That’s not true,” she said, worried. “I don’t want him to think I don’t care.”

The timing was on point for the parade to enter their vision, no longer just the distant sound of the band. Even as Valorie continued to think about the possibility that Nate didn’t know how much she cared about what he’d achieved, she couldn’t help but be delighted by the sight of Gabe and Cogs very, very drunk in the first carriage that came through.

When Nate came clearly into view, the Cup held high above his head, Valorie felt her heart swell and tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“It is,” Sid said, barely audible over the band and the crowd. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”

Nate had a million things planned for the rest of his day; had a lot of people to introduce the Cup to. Long after he had disappeared from the parade and after the streets of Halifax started to clear, Valorie remained on the roof with Sid and Kathy, swapping stories until their skin was turning pink.

The fact that Sid remembered her, let alone willing to talk with her like an old friend, was still very much blowing Valorie’s mind but it wasn’t something she was going to draw attention to lest it ruin the chill vibe they’d settled into.

They walked to the bar where the party would really kick off, Sid easily blending into the small crowds still milling around Halifax—the occasional person shouting at him, at everyone near them, at the wind. The excitement felt like it was never going to leave.

Waiting for Nate felt like an age, somehow felt even longer than all seven years Valorie had been away. Maybe it was sitting beside an already very drunk Mike, or maybe it was the intense anticipation coursing through her because she knew that Nate could walk through the doors with the Stanley Cup at any moment.

Maybe it was that she was pulled into a conversation with Gabe Landeskog who looked only marginally more sober than he had in the carriage; the beers he was double fisting were sure to fix that.

“Long time no see, Valorie,” he said, his tone giving no indication whether that was good or bad. “All the way back at Nate’s first game, right?”

Valorie was hesitant to respond, and opted for an honest, “That was the only one I got to, yes.”

“He missed you a lot that year.” Gabe paused to drink from one of his beers and Valorie waited for the rest of the thought. “The year after, too, but different.”

“I missed him, too,” Valorie admitted readily; that wasn’t something she’d ever been shy about.

Gabe nodded at her, then raised his chin to say hello to someone who had just walked into the room—it wasn’t Nate, Val checked—and then put his beers down on the table between them so that he could collapse into the empty seat.

“It’s good you’re back together. He’s really happy about it.”

“We’re not—he’s happy because he’s done the one thing you guys aim to do. He’s beaten the final boss. The Elite Four were no match for you guys.”

“No, no, sure he’s happy about that.” Gabe insisted, “It’s a different happy now. A more complete happy.”

“I don’t think you’re making any sense. You should go drink some water.”

Gabe protested, downing one of the beers in a matter of seconds as if that would prove he didn’t need water. Her lip quirked up at the action, both from amusement and bemusement.

Nate finally walked in, well after everyone else was a few drinks in and getting rowdy. His arrival increased the already loud bar enough to make Valorie cover one of her ears while raising the other into the air as she joined the hollering.

Nate finally walked in, well after everyone else was a few drinks in and getting rowdy. His arrival made it worse in that the noise levels were high enough to make Valorie cover one of her ears while raising the other into the air as she joined the hollering.

He and the Cup were moved around the room like he was in a pinball machine, from person to person, from shot glass to shot glass, until at last he was in front of her. The Cup had been deposited somewhere else in the room and Valorie didn’t care enough to locate it; after all, she wasn’t there to see the Stanley Cup.

With a lack of hesitation that couldn’t even be passed off on any drinking she’d been doing, Valorie threw herself at Nate, overcome by the need to make sure he knew she cared about what he’d achieved.

Nate wasn’t immediately ready for it, Valorie’s arms around his neck as she pulled him closer, but he soon realised what was happening and moved his arms around her waist to pull her off the ground.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, breathless and rushed into his ear. “You’re so good at—at hockey and at knowing me and at taking care of me. But hockey, Nate. I want to hear all about it, okay? Probably tomorrow so I can appreciate it, but I do. I watched it. All six games. I cried I was so proud of you. I am so proud of you. You’re so good.”

“You watched?” he asked back, his warm breath brushing over her own ear and causing her to pull back with her head tilted and her face contorted.

“Yes, Nate. Of course. I thought you knew. I didn’t think I had to tell you.”

Nate pulled her back in, his face buried in her neck. The room may as well have been empty with the way all of Valorie’s senses honed in on Nate—he’d showered before coming, put on cologne that made her head spin, and his warm breath fanned across her neck which made the spinning worse.

If a loud, roaring round of applause hadn’t broken out, Valorie could have stayed pressed against him all night. As it were, though, she pulled back in a dramatic fashion and put a reasonable distance between them before contributing to the clapping—putting gross enthusiasm into it.

Nate laughed, then made a few embarrassed gestures of acknowledgement, before accepting a beer that was being handed to him.

Valorie disappeared, leaving Nate to be bounced around the room again, and hid away with Amber and Mike. They were good and spoke to their other high school friends, all of whom were surprised to see Valorie in the flesh. Luckily for her, the Cup was more than enough of a distraction from any of them asking her what she’d been up to while she was gone.

As the night grew later, it became very clear that Nate’s long day was catching up with him. He was trying, valiantly, to be the last person kicking at the bar, though his demeanour was getting progressively testier as time passed.

“I’m gonna head out. Do you want to come or stay?” she asked, brushing her hand gently over Nate’s shoulders.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, sullen, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her towards his chair. “You should stay.”

“Amber’s driving me home—if I leave you here can you get home?”

“You should stay,” he repeated, eliciting a laugh from the group he was sitting with.

Valorie laughed with them and ran her hand over his head, insisting that she was leaving whether or not he was coming with her. He hummed, resigned, but let her go so that she could follow Amber outside.

Valorie waited against the wall outside, her head resting back against the cool brick, while Amber went to get her car—Mike went with Amber, mostly because Valorie refused to be the one responsible for him keeping to the sidewalk and off the road.

The door opened and Valorie turned her head, expecting to just wave to somebody as they left, and was surprised to see Nate stepping out.

“Everything alright? You coming home?” she asked, reaching out to him without a second thought. Nate went to her easily.

“I’m going to stay for a bit longer,” he said, standing in front of her. He wasn’t boxing her into the bricks but he was definitely close enough that it wouldn’t take much at all to get there—Valorie thought it would be nice if he did.

“Why are you out here, then?” she asked, her fingers resting in his belt loops.

“I need to…”

Nate didn’t finish his sentence, just lowered his head little by little. Valorie tilted her chin up, pushing back against the wall to get a bit more height.

He wasn’t the same Nate she’d kissed at eighteen—he was broader, bigger in every sense and it was intoxicating to be pressed against the wall by the Nate she’d come to learn. In her mind she was expecting desperation, a need to make up for lost time. It didn’t come, though, and yet Valorie still felt lightheaded when he broke their kiss.

“Will you be in my bed when I get home?”

Valorie scoffed, a little disappointed, “Nate.”

“Not for like—I just want you there. I always want you there.”

She breathed out an “okay”, and kissed him again before sending him back inside to be with his lingering friends.

When he was gone and her head was clearer, Valorie opened her eyes and jumped off the wall at the sight of Amber’s car in front of her and Mike hanging out the passenger’s window.

She pushed Mike back into the car on her way to the backseat, asking before she even sat down, “How long were you there for?”

“Saw it all, babe,” Amber said, beaming into the rear-view mirror. “Never been happier to roll up on two people hooking up outside a bar.”

Valorie knew the second she woke up that things were different. The most immediately apparent difference was the snoring coming from beside her, accompanied by the warmth of an arm over her waist and a chest pressed against her back. Even the mattress underneath her felt different.

Then there was the fact that Nate had kissed her the night before, the catalyst for the other changes she supposed.

It wasn’t a bad different was her first major takeaway, and she relaxed back into the mattress. She couldn’t just lay there forever but she could for a little longer and enjoy the all-encompassing presence of Nate.

She had a fair idea of what time he usually woke up but couldn’t translate that into what might happen when he was hungover—which he was sure to be, and she couldn’t begrudge him that—so after lying in long enough that an ache started to settle in her sides, Valorie pulled herself out of Nate’s embrace and decided to start making breakfast.

Nothing fancy, of course, but she could whip up bacon and eggs and put some pods in a Nespresso machine without too much hassle. She hoped that the smell of food would wake him up, whether he was up to eating it or not and her hope was fulfilled when he wandered out while she was eating her own plate.

“You told me you couldn’t cook,” Nate said, dropping an easy kiss onto Valorie’s head as he passed her to the kitchen.

“I can use a fry pan.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Eating across from Nate, with him smiling at her in a way he hadn’t since her return, was exactly what Valorie had been after and hadn’t known. Listening to him tell her all about the things she’d missed when he was off doing Stanley Cup things and filling him in in return. Everything he said was perfect and when he moved into telling her about the Cup win itself—“You have to do it again so I can be there.”

“I’ll give it my best go.”

Valorie grinned, picturing it all in her head. She held the image in her mind as she cleared the table and it all came crashing back down when she looked at Nate over the kitchen counter as she realised that their future relied on them talking about the new state of their relationship.

“We probably need to have a conversation or two,” Valorie said hesitantly, eyeing Nate over her coffee to check for any reaction at all. When he didn’t so much as blink, she added, “It’s just been like… six weeks and I don’t actually know what we are to each other.”

He wasn’t pleased, mumbling, “Do we have to have that conversation?”

“If we’re going where I want us to, then yeah, Nate.”

That caught his attention enough to have him properly look at her, no longer buried in his coffee. His question came slow and unsure, yet simultaneously hopeful, “Where do you want us to go?”

“I want us to be together again.”

His previously wary face transformed into a smile, small and barely noticeable. Valorie smiled back at him as she continued to drink her coffee. She didn’t know how to start whatever conversation it was that they needed to have—conversations were one of their strong suits as teenagers, Valorie was able to frame things in the perfect way or ask just the right questions to get Nate talking.

Just as she was trying to come up with a way to get him talking, Nate was the one who spoke first.

“Why’d you move to Miami with him?”

Valorie froze. It made sense, in hindsight, that Nate would be the one leading the conversation when she was the one who’d left, and yet it was still like being doused in cold water to have the question asked of her so directly.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and provided the simplest explanation she had, “I thought I was going to marry him.”

“I thought you were going to marry me.”

“Obviously that didn’t happen, Nate.”

“Yeah,” he said, because it was entirely obvious that it hadn’t happened and the look on his face showed that he didn’t like to be reminded of it. “And I’m still trying to work out why.”

“Nate, it was seven years ago.” She added, stressed, “We were kids.”

“I still don’t know why you broke up with me, Valorie.”

“Valorie?” she all but screeched, her full name coming from his lips sending a horrible quake down her spine and through her body.

Nate powered on, “You broke up with me and you left and to this day I don’t know why that was.”

“I wasn’t happy, Nate.”

The abrupt silence was worse than the conversation. Valorie sat there, wishing she could take back those four little words—she would if she’d known just how instantly Nate would close up.

His entire face, which had at least been showing his unhappiness and discomfort, was no longer telling her a single thing about how he was feeling. Except with that, she knew exactly how he was feeling.

She opened her mouth, ready to try and do damage control, to try to take it back so that he wouldn’t look like that, except not a single word came out.

Nate beat her to it, though, the sadness gone from his face but still very present in his voice. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I know that the long distance wasn’t great—why didn’t you talk to me?”

“None of it was your fault, Nate,” Valorie stressed, reaching across the table towards him even though he was out of reach. “You were the best thing I had going at the time. I couldn’t keep a job and I couldn’t continue with college because I kept failing the classes and I needed to leave so that I could work on all of that and not drag you down with me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, over the next twelve months I learnt a lot, I grew a lot. I actually was going to ask if you wanted to try again when we were both back here the next summer, but you brought a girlfriend.”

“Rachel.”

“She was lovely,” Valorie said, truthfully.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“And fuck up the thin hold you had on your mental health by dragging you down with my problems?”

“Breaking up with me and then ghosting me did a pretty good job of that.”

Valorie finally pulled her hands back to her lap, knowing that that one sentence was a sure sign that Nate wasn’t going to hold them. Him leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest made it even clearer.

She didn’t know what to say, no amount of explaining was going to be enough and she didn’t want him to think she was making excuses. At the time it had felt like the right thing to do, breaking up with him without any real reason, in the years that had past she’d come to her own realisations that maybe it wasn’t.

Nate’s voice was gruff when he asked, “When did you meet Nick?”

“The first year I was gone…” Valorie said with a sigh. “Sometime in early 2015. Before I came back that summer. We weren’t together at that point because I thought… I thought we—” she gestured between herself and Nate “—could try again. But you know…”

“Rachel,” Nate filled in, uncrossing his arms.

“Rachel. So I went back to Miami, I found Nick because he’d been good to me while I was there but we’re here now anyway. You and me.”

He nodded, still expressionless. Valorie’s leg twitched under the table, up and down repetitively, as she tried to will herself to let Nate be the next person to speak.

“You and me?” he asked, after a long silence.

“If you still want me.”

Nate sighed, pushing his chair back and standing. Valorie watched him, worried that he was going to walk away from the table—from their conversation. He walked around the table towards her, though, and Valorie didn’t have to be told to stand and meet him halfway.

Nate didn’t have anything special planned for his birthday, much to Valorie’s horror. He was going to see his family for lunch—with an invite extended to Valorie which she was more than happy to accept. She couldn’t help but laugh when she arrived and saw Sid and Kathy sitting at the table on the back porch.

“You’re almost like a second father,” Valorie joked, in lieu of a proper greeting. “You’re just everywhere. All Nate’s big moments.”

“I’m really not that old,” Sid argued.

“I was thirteen when I watched you bring the Cup to Cole Harbour. That makes you pretty old.”

He scoffed, “I turned 22 that year.”

Valorie hummed and nodded knowingly, “Old.”

She watched him roll his eyes, noting the affection on his face, and moved on to greet Kathy properly.

It was, otherwise, an uneventful lunch. Valorie was appreciative of the invite, more than pleased to finally be with Nate’s family—back with Nate’s family, and being treated as if she’d never left in the first place. Her smile was ever present, only growing as she watched Nate shift uncomfortably while Happy Birthday was sung at him. Especially when she knew she was going to sing it at him again that evening.

They stayed there until late in the afternoon and Valorie tried not to let her impatience show because she liked spending time with his family, with Sid and Kathy, but she had plans for dinner that she didn’t want to mess up. Nate knew, though, at least vaguely, so they left early enough that Valorie could relax.

When they got home, she banished him to his bedroom so that she could start to cook and set the table with the fancy table setting she’d bought the day before. She was meticulous about their dinner, returning to the recipe far more than was probably necessary to ensure that it was exactly how it needed to be, and felt a true sense of pride as it all came together.

“Can I come back out?” Nate asked, still hidden behind the wall.

Valorie looked around her, taking in the pan she was using and the cleanliness of the kitchen before she told him that he could.

He bypassed the set table, walked straight towards her, and peered over her shoulder to see what she was cooking. His laugh was gentle and sincere.

“Are you making me risotto?”

“I’ve been practising,” she admitted. “When I went to Amber’s the other day we did a test run and it was actually pretty good!”

She giggled as Nate pulled her back from the stove and turned her around, kissing her so sweetly that she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.

The whole shop stood still, except for the large bouquet of roses that was being walked to the counter; a deep red expertly pruned and assembled. Valorie knew exactly who they were from before they had even reached her.

Everyone huddled around the vase, customers included, as it was set down on the counter in front of Valorie. She knew who they were from without even looking at the note they came with, but there was a sudden hush when her co-worker read out the note on the card: Happy Birthday, mi amor. Love always, Nick.

“You sure that says Nick?” one of their customers asked—Valorie vaguely recognised her from school, though she was positive they hadn’t been in the same year. “Not Nate?”

“I mean—”

Valorie snatched the note more aggressively than she’d intended, saying, “Nick is a friend.”

The side eyes she got from both the customer and her co-worker were far from subtle but Valorie just buried the note in her pocket and carried the vase into the back room.

They—like everything Nick bought her—were gorgeous. He had somehow managed to send her the most perfect roses from Florida and she didn’t want to think about how much money had gone into them. Every day with Nick was filled with unnecessary luxuries and that only increased tenfold on her birthday.

Until the roses came along, Valorie’s day had been uneventful. She woke up early enough for her half-day shift at the hobby store—granted to her by her boss who was horrified that she hadn’t already asked for the whole day—and discovered that Nate was already awake and making her breakfast, and he planned on driving her into Halifax.

It was the most thoughtful gift she’d received in years.

He picked her up after her shift—and after her co-worker tried not so slyly to ask more questions about the roses—and Valorie was met with a bouquet of flowers as she opened the passenger’s side door. She rushed to sit in the car, pushing the vase of roses between her feet on the floor and reaching for the pink hydrangeas Nate held.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” she gushed, hugging them to her chest as she inhaled. “Did you have to ask someone about my favourite flower or did you just remember?”

Nate mumbled, “Remembered.”

“I can’t believe it, that’s incredible.” She leaned across the centre console to kiss him and got his cheek when he turned his head but she was too distracted by the flowers to notice. “Should I look into the meaning behind these or are they just beautiful?”

Nate started the engine, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front of him, and Valorie tried not to read into his tense jaw. Or the way he moved his hand to the steering wheel when she tried to hold it over the gearshift.

“Who did the roses come from?” he asked as they pulled into his garage after a painfully silent car ride.

She answered, cautiously, “Nick.”

“How does he know where you work?”

“I don’t know? Insta? I don’t care about the roses, you bought me hydrangeas.”

Nate only said, “okay” before he got out of the car and left Valorie sitting in it by herself. She watched him walk into the house with slumped shoulders and an aching chest before she tried to manoeuvre herself out of the car with the vase of roses and the very large bouquet of hydrangeas.

She put the roses on the kitchen counter and then scoured Nate’s cupboards for a vase so she could put the hydrangeas at the centre of the dining table. She passed Nate on the couch as she walked to the stairs, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and thank him as she did so.

Valorie tried to put it to the back of her mind as she got ready for her birthday plans—Amber had planned a whole afternoon and evening for her and Valorie had been planning her outfit for a week. It wasn’t going to be as extravagant as anything she’d done in Miami, which she’d assured Amber was more than fine, but it was her first birthday in Nova Scotia in years and her first birthday back with her best friend so she was going to make the most of it.

Putting it to the back of her mind worked well until she ascended the stairs and saw that Nate hadn’t moved from his position on the couch.

“Amber and Mike will be here soon—are you ready?”

Nate sunk further into the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his chin nearly buried into them which led to a mumbled, “I’m not really feeling it; you have fun.”

“You’re not feeling it?” she asked, hating the way her voice cracked in time with the crack in her heart. “It’s my birthday?”

“You go have fun,” he said, still into his arms. “Don’t worry about me.”

Valorie had never felt more pathetic, standing behind Nate when he wouldn’t even look at her, dressed up in one of the nicest she’d brought with her from Miami and had taken so much care with her make-up—not dressed up entirely for Nate but she definitely wanted him to at least look at her. Maybe even appreciate the effort she had gone to.

“Nate, I—I want you there,” Valorie said weakly, moving closer to him to see if she could get him to turn around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just don’t want to go out again today.”

Valorie gave up with one last desperate look at Nate and she walked immediately through the front door to wait on the doorstep for Amber and Mike. She wasn’t going to cry about it, even if the furious blinking was barely stopping her—before Amber and Mike pulled up she pulled on her sunglasses and took some deep, centring breaths.

When Amber and Mike did pull up, this time with Amber hanging out the passenger’s side window and jumping out to pull Valorie into a tight hug as she screamed Happy Birthday in her ear, Valorie’s smile was genuine.

At least, it was until she climbed into the passenger’s seat at Amber’s insistence and they sat in the car for a few moments in silence.

“We can go,” she said, hoping that the crack in her voice wasn’t noticeable to anyone but herself.

“What about Nate?”

“I don’t want to talk about Nate.”

“I’ll fight him if you want me to,” Mike offered, completely sincerely, reaching down to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Can’t promise I’ll win but I’ll give it a go.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him and I don’t want to think about it for the rest of the day.”

Not thinking about it for the rest of the day was much easier said than done. It put a clear damper on the mood despite the smile Valorie was forcing into her face. For a few blissful moments she did forget, was able to just enjoy the company she was with and the drinks in front of her—and then it all came crashing back down on her with a heartbreaking thud.

Amber tried to talk about, to get an explanation as to why Valorie was upset and Nate wasn’t around and each time she was shut down by Valorie repeating that she didn’t want to talk about it and that she just wanted to enjoy her birthday.

There wasn’t much enjoyment happening, though, with Valorie staring morosely into every rum and coke she was drinking. They’d had Happy Hour cocktails, eaten some of the best steaks Valorie had ever come across and moved on to another bar to continue their night—it was everything Valorie hadn’t realised she missed and it was still being ruined by Nate.

Amber tried again, waiting until Valorie’s glass was empty, and Valorie reacted by standing up and saying that she needed some fresh air. When Amber tried to follow her, Valorie insisted that she was going alone.

Although Valorie had decided to go outside just to get away from any more questions, the fresh air did help. She hadn’t quite realised just how much the alcohol had gone to her head until she was confronted by the breeze coming off the river.

She rested her forehead against the cool bricks of the external walls, her arms crossed above her head, and counted her breaths in and out.

“Val?”

Valorie whipped around, her forehead and forearms scraping against the bricks, and was met with Nate’s concerned face.

“Thought you didn’t want to come out again today,” she said tersely, inspecting her forearms quickly and cringing at the grazes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, readily, without prompting. “That’s pretty up there with the most asshole things I’ve ever done.”

“You made me feel like shit.”

“I know. I didn’t—I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse that’s good or justified.”

Valorie shuffled her feet, getting to the point where she was regretting her heels, and lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“I’d like to make the rest of your birthday better,” Nate said, visibly shrinking in and making himself smaller and less intimidating. “If you’ll let me.”

“I really don’t feel like I should forgive you, you know?” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air.

“Okay, that’s fair. I can go home.”

She sighed, “No, I don’t want you to go home. I—I’m really happy you’re here even if you weren’t before.”

The corner of Nate’s mouth lifted tentatively, “Yeah?”

Valorie nodded, and broke the rest of the tension between them by stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She relaxed into him, at the feel of his arms around her and the smell of his cologne filling her head. It was going to warrant a conversation, she knew that, but if she could enjoy the rest of her night she would do just that.

She led him back into the bar by the hand, having already been subjected to a brief twirl as Nate told her how good she looked, much happier and lighter than she had been when she’d walked outside.

Valorie, never one to be held down by a hangover, woke bright and early the next morning. Nate was still dead to the world beside her, a pillow pulled over his head to block out whatever noises he’d heard that she hadn’t.

It was bright outside when she left his room with her clothes bundled in her arms, unable to lie there and wait for him to stir, though the clock near the staircase told her it wasn’t even seven.

She had a quick shower—the hot water tap barely turned—and changed before she went in search of her bag, keys and phone and left a note on the kitchen counter for Nate that she was heading out but wouldn’t be long.

The roses had never left her mind, not with the weirdness they’d caused, and seeing them standing tall and proud on the kitchen counter made her know that she was making the right decision.

She wrote another note, tucking it into the flowers and made her way to her parents’ house to leave the roses and the note on their doorstep.

Mom, I think you can take better care of these than I can. Love you xxx

The round trip didn’t take overly long, so Nate wasn’t moving about the house when Valorie returned. She made herself a coffee and sat on the balcony, the caffeine working in combination with the slight breeze to keep any hangover symptoms at bay.

“Where are the roses?” Nate asked, startling Valorie when she hadn’t even heard the door slide open.

She waited until Nate was sitting sidewards on the recliner beside her before she said slowly, “With my mom. She loves roses.”

“You didn’t have to get rid of them.”

“I’m not attached to them… They were clearly making you uncomfortable, so it’s fine.”

Nate hummed, then said softly, “Thank you.”

Valorie smiled at him, grateful for the admission no matter how vague. She stood up, only to sit back down on Nate’s recliner after moving him so she could sit between his legs and relax back into him. She reached for his hands and wrapped his arms around her body.

She didn’t expect him to say anything else, happy to push the conversation they had to have to later in the day and just enjoy a quiet morning. Nate didn’t have the same desire, though.

“A guy doesn’t just send you roses on your birthday if he’s not trying to get you back.” He was speaking into her hair and if he hadn’t been so close Valorie wouldn’t have heard him at all.

She squeezed his arms and said, “If I was going back to him, I would have any of the half dozen times he’s already asked.”

She hadn’t mentioned it to Nate—to anyone—that Nick was sending things to her parents house, not many, but enough that she’d had to call him to put her foot down. The earrings he’d sent that matched the bracelet she’d been wearing the first time she’d seen Nate back in Nova Scotia were the final straw there. She’d never worn them and hadn’t put the bracelet back on, even though it was her favourite piece of jewellery.

Nate’s hesitation was evidence enough of his worry and was only amplified by the way he was holding her close and still speaking into her hair. “He’s not wearing you down?”

“Not in a good way. He seems to think that if he throws more money at me and reminds me of the life we had together and the future we could have; that I’ll just forget that I want kids.”

“Promise?”

“Remember that conversation we had? After the Cup Day? It’s you and me. I’m not going back to him.”

Nate’s forehead came to rest against the back of her head; Valorie could feel his relieved sigh.

The summer was dangerously close to ending. Valorie was counting down the days until she and Nate got on a plane to Denver, excitement and trepidation filling every ounce of her body and only getting more and more intense whenever she saw him.

There was something on her mind, though, the cause of the trepidation. A question she’d been holding onto for far longer than she intended and a question she knew she needed to ask before they left for their new life together—it couldn’t be another conversation that happened after the fallout.

Nate had just finished up his last training session with Andy, and Valorie smiled at him and only briefly cringed when he leant down to kiss her despite the sweat rolling off his body.

Andy followed Nate in, greeting her happily, none the wiser to her inner turmoil—though how could Andy be if Nate didn’t have a clue? He said goodbye to Valorie, that he’d see her when Nate was back in Canada, and she waved at him as he left.

She sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, and listened to the shower in Nate’s ensuite turn on. With a quick inhale and in an unexpected moment of courage, she decided to join him.

“What a surprise,” Nate smirked, watching Valorie drop her clothes as she entered the bathroom.

The water was nearly unbearably hot though she didn’t falter, immediately wrapping her arms around Nate. He followed suit without missing a beat and Valorie relished in being able to rest her head against his chest and hear his steady heartbeat over the water.

“What’s brought this on?”

“You did an interview a few years ago and I can’t forget it,” Valorie said, taking a deep breath. She was thankful that the shower was hiding the wetness in her voice. “That you don’t like kids? And I—I need to know if that’s still true before… I don’t know.”

“I was never sure about having kids, I’ll be honest,” Nate said, slow, measured, and most definitely confused. “But I always knew that if I was going to have kids it was only going to be with you.”

“Okay. That’s—okay.”

Her relief was immeasurable—she had known it was causing her a lot of inner stress but to have it roll off her shoulders was nicer than she ever could have imagined.

“I love you.”

Valorie pulled away from Nate’s chest, blinking through the fall of water over her face, another sigh leaving her body. She pressed up on her toes to kiss him, unable to express herself in any other way.

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[dryemiddi]

HAPPY 5TH ACCIDENTVERSARY!

#undertale au #dryeart #accidentverse #AV #Vantablack #Silence #Nightmare!Ink #Dream!Error #Nightmare sans #Dream Sans #Ink Sans #Error Sans #for courtesy of tags #been so frazzled lately I haven't gotten much done for this apart from the fic for halloween #tbh my attention is split af #i still need to come up with slight redesign for vanta to properly seperate him tho #digital art #anniversary #character birthday #maybe instead of pressuring myself to do big things I can just do like. Idea dumps instead #that might be more managable #character fusion #utmv #undertale

[johnnystorms]

avengers twilight!steve, on regrets, memories and tony stark. written post-avengers twilight #002. stevetony.

Steve has a lot of regrets. Tony—not the real one, the best friend he lost on the day he lost everything, but the one he keeps in his head, his mind’s best attempt at a ghost of the person he misses most—says that’s inevitable, living as long as Steve has.

C’mon, Cap, he says, smiling that way his Tony used to: eyes as bright as the future he was always talking about, everything in him shining. Or maybe that’s just how he looked to Steve, young enough back then to not yet have blinked the stars from his eyes. You live long enough, you run the risk of anything outweighing the good memories. His smile fades, not enough to disappear, but to become something smaller, quieter. Tinged with something requiring care. Do me a favour, handsome. Try not to let that happen to you.

Steve doesn’t like disappointing Tony Stark, not even the one dreamed up inside his head, but he thinks it might be too late on that front.

If someone asked for a list of regrets, he’d have to give that wry, hoarse laugh that makes him sound as old as he feels, and say, Nobody has time to listen to all that. If someone had asked Tony, he’d have a breathtakingly clever quip or an outpouring of guilt, depending on his mood, and who had asked. If it had been Steve, maybe both. Matt would have thought about it, long and hard, and disappeared to a confession booth. Peter – Jessica – Logan – Carol – all of them, he thinks, would have their own laundry list of hauntings, justified or otherwise.

That’s the name of the game, he thinks. You have to take the wins for what they are, but it doesn’t make the losses any lighter to bear. Steve’s posture isn’t what it used to be, even with the Defenders’ replicated super soldier serum in his veins, but his shoulders were shaking under the crushing weight of all his mistakes long before his age caught up to his body.

Janet isn’t here anymore to ask, but he doesn’t know what she’d say. It’s not that he thinks she has no regrets—even outside of the hero business, that’s a tall order for anyone—so much as that’s not how he remembers her. When he thinks of Janet van Dyne, he thinks of her deft fingers readjusting the lapel of the suit she designed and Tony cajoled him into; he thinks of her tinkling laugh almost being swallowed up by Thor’s booming one, the two of them bent double at the disgruntled expression Clint was shooting their way one golden night back when the world knew what heroes were meant to be; and he thinks of her clever, smiling mouth, and the way nobody could ever resist smiling right back. Steve had been no exception.

He misses it so fiercely it burns. Jan’s smile and Thor’s relentless steadiness and even Peter’s terrible jokes as he chased the Human Torch around the city. Carol’s quick fists and Jessica’s quick thinking and Natasha’s quick draw, and the time the three of them had a punch-up contest with the Thing that ended in an exasperated Tony footing the bill to the city and Johnny cackling as Sue dressed down Ben for his part in it. Luke’s laughter as he slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder and Jessica Jones taking photos of the two of them and Logan and Bobbi in the corner, trading tales of Hawkeye’s Greatest Hits: Indecent Exposure edition.

And Tony—always, always Tony. The press of him against Steve’s side, a reassuring line of heat, like, hey, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not cold anymore. You have a team. You have me. His tired eyes and easy smile and razor-sharp wit, even half-dead on his feet. The late nights where Steve coaxed him out of his lab with a hot drink and the promise of conversation, the early mornings where Steve would wear a worried frown and say, you should really sleep more, Tony, and Tony would grin at him and say, and give up these early mornings where you bring me coffee and those big blue eyes of yours? Never, and Steve would sigh, but there would be something fond tugging at the corner of his lips, and Tony would look all pleased with himself, animated in a way no caffeine fix could ever cause, and Steve would want—

Steve swallows.

You’re drifting, baby. It’s Jan’s voice, that classic combination of fond amusement and concern that Clint used to perk up at being addressed with and Tony used to call the van Dyne special, all those years ago. God, Steve misses them all. He aches with wanting. You’re drifting. Bring it back home, Steve. Start with the most important bit. Let’s take it from the top.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore. It is not a new fact, a new thought, but every time, it hits him like a concrete block to the ribs.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore, but Steve Rogers breathes in, and thinks about it anyway. Take it from the top. The most important things.

How the tables turn, Tony says. He’s the only one Steve keeps. All his other ghosts flit in and out of his head, coming and going like the tides, but Tony is the forever haunting. The only one his mind holds onto on a permanent basis. D’you remember, oh, all the way back near the start -- one time you asked me if it got exhausting, thinking so much.

Steve remembers. Steve has never forgotten anything Tony Stark gave him, be it physical or a vow or just the smallest memory that wasn’t intended as a secret but became one in Steve’s desperate hands. The world has taken so much from him, from all of them, ever since H-day. He can’t talk about Tony, because what if the world takes that from him too?

How the tables turn, Tony says again, soft in that way most people didn’t believe Tony Stark could be. Steve knew, though. Steve’s always known. You look exhausted, Steve. Don’t let it be so big. Just -- right now, right at this moment. What’s the call, Cap?

That was what Tony had said that day, Steve remembers. The world was on fire, and about to become a whole lot colder, and they didn’t know that, didn’t know anything about what was to come, just that this was it, this was the moment, this was the do or die, and Tony had stood at his shoulder, the armour a familiar comfort against Steve’s side, and asked, What’s the call, Cap?

An itemised list of all of Steve Rogers’ regrets would take too long, and a ranked list of all time would be impossible to decide upon when Steve has such a long memory and even longer history.

So, in its stead, Steve thinks, he’ll give Tony the right now.

STEVE ROGERS’ TOP THREE REGRETS RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT, 0142HRS, DEC 31 20XX, COUNTING DOWN:

3. Rosa. He’d deserved the slap. He’d deserved a lot of things, really. He’d had good years with Rosa; years of her no-nonsense love, of her careful hands, of the way she looked at him in the quiet of the night with all the warmth their little home could hold, like she still saw something worth believing in him. Maybe she did. He thinks she probably did. His wife was a lot of things, most of them good, but above all else, she was never a liar.

He’s sorry he blew up her life. He’s sorrier about that than the fact he blew up their life together, but that’s always the way it goes with him, isn’t it? There’s nothing he’s felt he had to keep more than the shield. It’s not that they matter less to him—God help him, but it’s not about the love. There’s never been a lack of love—but to his bones, to his core, he’s always been the guy who wants to stand up and help. If the fight needs to be had, he’s going to stand there, fists up, no matter who he is, no matter how old he is. No matter how super he is.

He knew that about himself a long time ago. Maybe if he’d stopped pretending that had changed, Rosa wouldn’t be stuck here now.

2. It’s a little one, in the scheme of things, but it also feels more important than almost anything else at this moment. He wishes he’d touched Matt, that last time they saw each other. Gone are the days where Steve would clasp his friends by the hand, something lost to time and loneliness and gradually brittled bones, but he wishes desperately that he’d clasped his hand to Matt’s shoulder one last time. Just a moment. Just enough for some phantom warmth on his palms, a tangible ghost of Daredevil, not just something dreamed up by his mind in the moments when losing almost everyone he’s ever trusted is insurmountable.

1. He doesn’t know where to begin with this one. H-day. The way it went down. Peter bleeding out in front of him. James Stark growing up without his parents, the best of them both twisted into something Steve can’t look at directly without feeling hopeless, helpless. Clint’s arrow snapped in half, a crater where the Thing should be. His last sight of Reed Richards, stretching further than he’d ever seen before as he reached out desperately towards his wife. Tony’s voice in his ear: what’s the call, Cap?

And that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? His biggest regret. This one, he suspects wouldn’t change even if it was an all-time list. Tony Stark, the vibrant, blaring truth of him. Something Steve misses so desperately that when the world forced him to live without him, he made up a version of him to keep in his head forever.

It’s more similar to #2 than he thought. He has so many regrets, and so many of them are about Tony Stark—about that day, about missing people, about loving people and losing them because of the fight, whether they were lost in the fight or he left them behind to join it—but more than anything, he thinks he misses the feeling of Tony’s hand in his, pulling him in close, arm going around Steve’s shoulder to draw him into a hug.

I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you, Tony says, years ago, so far away from this moment that it might as well have been another world, and Steve, old and jaded and lonely and tired and missing the person he loves best so fiercely it aches in his lungs, thinks, You and me both, Tony. You and me both.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

-

(When the dossier falls open in front of him, with a blueprint of a tank and photos of him—photos of Tony, and even Tony in pieces makes Steve ache with something he thought had long been buried—spill out, let’s get it from the world’s smartest man, Tony Stark echoing in his ears—

Steve, for a moment, wants to throw up.

Then his jaw sets.

All right, Tony, he thinks. He doesn’t know if he’s addressing the ghost in his head, or the one in the tank, or some nebulous third thing, a Hail Mary thrown to the universe, some last passage of faith he thought he’d forgotten. What’s the call? You and me. That’s the call. I’m getting you out of there.

I’m bringing you home.)

#stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers twilight #stony fic #read av twilight 2. talked to 616 s/t server abt it. wrote this on and off at work that day bc i keep thinking abt steve in it lol #can't wait for this to all be jossed in issue 3 LMAO #jane writes sometimes #you gave me a home #apparently this is 1.9k which is probably excessive for a tumblr ficlet but in my defence this was just meant to be the list

[light-purp-insect]

A Hesitant Rest (Zevlor BG3 x GN unspecified Tav)

Notes/warnings: SFW, fluff, domestic feelings, mentions of other companions, Astarion being himself at the end, not beta read, sleeping together (literally), slight depictions of anxiety, slight nudity (undressing in the company of another person), very light spoilers, possibly fast paced? (Read author's notes below for context), very little dialogue

This was just an excuse to write something in two days to finally put another fic on my blog, as well as hopefully an introduction for fans of Baldur's Gate 3 to send asks.

The fire of the camp was on its last embers, the bright hot orange ashes going into the sky but no crackle left. It made the little clearing have such little lighting, the only main source being an occasional lantern or candle left out near a tent before their inhabitant went to bed. That or Karlach’s internal workings giving a glow through the thin fabric of her tent, but that was always to be expected. Speaking of, I don’t even remember why I’m still up. It's not like anyone will attack us, I’ve noticed very few creatures are even interested in us. But then again, I couldn’t be certain. For all I knew, there could be a bear that wasn’t Halsin or perhaps a crazed Drow or–

You notice the dull red tip of a pointed tail of your tiefling friend, Zevlor, twitch back and forth. His eyes scanned the camp and the outskirts of the trees until falling onto you. You could see the initial shock of realizing you were awake melt into delight. The bowl of food next to him had gone cold a while ago, but so did yours. He motions for you to come closer with a hand, and you oblige without much convincing.

Eventually you find yourself on the ground next to him in silence. Your hand in his, more for his comfort than trying to be cuddly, his tail begins to become more alive. In particular his tail went from nervously flicking in the dirt to being pressed against your side and the tip swishing to pat your thigh.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

“I'm afraid not, dear.”

His voice sounded a little defeated. He had gotten older and the stress of the loss of several Hellriders still was fresh in his mind. In his mind he still felt terrible, no matter how many times you tried to convince him it wasn't his fault for having his mind essentially possessed. To be honest he wanted to sleep next to you, you knew how to handle him the best.

“I have a few extra pillows, would you-..?” He doesn't finish his sentence, hoping you would be able to take his hint. To reiterate his question, he points to his tent with a clawed finger and tilts his head slightly. Once again you oblige to his silent offers. With a slightly pained groan, he gets up from the ground and guides you away towards his tent.

Much like he had said, on the rather rudimentary mattress was a few extra pillows and an old woven blanket for the both of you. From the inside, he turns and closes the fabric flap to the tent and begins to shuck the light armor from his body. The old leather falls unceremoniously to a little corner as he stretches his back with another groan. His tail slowly swishing around behind him as he continues to undress, giving you some privacy as you do as well.

Within a short time, he has stripped down to his old and worn boxers, the hoary fabric ripped slightly along the waistband and one of the side seams had been hastily restitched quite a while ago. His once lean body had gotten softer in some areas from age, of course still having to be well maintained from his previous years of travels. He had a few pink scars littering his figure, but nothing that looked particularly gnarly or uncomfortable to live with.

Eventually he turned back to you, giving a small smile that made his nasolabial lines more visible. He had bathed next to you a few times, so you weren't anything especially new to see in little clothing. He hunkers down on the poorly made mattress and waits patiently for you to follow. “It's been a little while since I was last able to sleep next to someone.” He muttered before looking away.

When he felt the bed sink under your weight, he looked back up. His gaze softened every second you were close. He needed this, something to comfort him tonight. The two of you languidly lay your heads on the pillows, and Zevlor momentarily readjusts himself so he wasn't laying on his horns.

As the two of you lay under the covers, eyes closed and silent, you feel the dull edge of a clawed hand. Did Zevlor want to hold you? It wouldn't be anything particularly out-of-the-ordinary, after all you had been through with this adventure. From under the blanket you guide his hand against your side. He gives a thankful huff in response.

And then, something you hadn't even thought he would do had happened. You had a feeling he wanted some contact, but now he had his arms wrapped around you and cradling your head to his chest. He smelt like the leather of his armor and had the faintest hint of smoke, probably from staying by the fire for so long. The tiefling languidly entertwined the both of your legs together, finally finding the warmth he so desperately craved. And you let him, he deserved something soft for once.

“Thank you, darling.” He purred– not in a lustful or lecherous way, but an actual feline-adjacent pur. You could feel by the blanket that his tail was sleepily wagging, clearly delighted you would let him have this. A pair of lips press to the crown of your head and stay there. You finally speak once again, wanting him to hear your voice before he drifted off to bed. “You're welcome, Zevlor.”

-- -- -- --

As the pale elf came back to the camp from his feeding, he instinctively decided to check the tents of his other companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Zev– oh. Well, at least he wouldn't need to check your tent tonight. He grined at the awfully sweet sight of the both of you asleep in the other's arms. He had a feeling he would tease one of you later, but he would allow you to rest before so.

#Av writes for once #zevlor bg3 #Zevlor Baldur's Gate 3 #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #zevlor x you #zevlor #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fic

[offside-the-lines]

Am I Ready (To Be Loved) | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Nate is not known to be impulsive, especially when it comes to love. So what happens when he gets a crazy idea while hungover the day after the Avalanche Stanley Cup parade. a/n: Happy Holidays folks! My first fic back (on this new blog) is a reworking of a fic I wrote for my Winter Prompt request last year (for @fallinallincurls). Thought I needed to start somewhere. This is obviously set in 2022 because I can't stand the idea of the avs squad being different. It also features some of our fave tropes. Pairing: Nathan McKinnon x Female!OC Words: 8K Warnings: alcohol Requests: Open | Masterlist

Charlotte hated these fancy functions. The schmoozing and the small talk were things that made her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin. No matter how much she would normally enjoy conversation, this just felt fake. And she knew how ridiculous it was. She worked in media. She was always in front of cameras. She took this job knowing this was a requirement. It doesn’t change the truth that, at her core, she would rather be on the couch watching some TV show on Netflix.

Although this wasn’t the first formal event she’d ever been to, this was the first Colorado Avalanche donors’ function. It didn’t help that she had only been working as a correspondent for Altitude TV for a few months; so many knew her name and her face, but no one really knew her personally. So, it was just smile, small talk, comment on the Avs, rinse and repeat.

After an hour or so of this, she was feeling done. Heading to the bar for a drink and found a cocktail table in the corner of the room, tucked near the obscenely large Christmas Tree, where she could just stand and watch. Charlotte looked around the room and wondered how long she had to stay before it was not inappropriate to leave.

“Hate these parties too, eh?” a familiar voice rang beside her.

Despite her shattered solitude, the voice brought out a smile on her face. “What do you mean? I don’t hate this?” she replied, not putting in much effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She turned to face the voice and the sight almost startled her a little as she felt her face warm. There stood Nathan Mackinnon in his perfectly tailored navy suit, eyes shining in the dim lighting. She takes a drink quickly to distract herself, reminding herself to be a professional.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “hiding in a dark corner isn’t avoiding the party, Charlotte.”

She shrugs as she turns her eyes back to the party.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in her ear, making her neck tingle a little, “I really don’t like these parties either. I would rather be at home on the couch with my dog watching TV.”

As he leaned back to sip his drink, she turned to him in surprise. “Oh yeah? Like what? More hockey tape?”

After a bit of light banter, they find that they have the same favorite show, much to Charlotte’s surprise. In the dim corner of a fancy event, they are quoting their favorite lines to each other, trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, hiding themselves behind their drinks so as to not draw too much attention at such a fancy event. Charlotte’s laughing so hard she snorts a little, causing Nate to look at her in surprise before continuing to laugh even harder, drawing some looks from the donors and teammates closest to them. After a while, when they both finally calm down, she feels herself relax a little.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before Nate spoke up again. “You know, Charlotte. You ask me questions all the time, but I don’t think I really know anything about you other than your name and your job title.”

“I mean, I only really ever ask you questions about the game or the team,” she responds.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me,” he said pointedly, but softly. He had a point; it was her job to know as much about the players as possible.

“Okay, I know about NHL Hockey Player, Avs’ Center, Forward Extraordinaire Nathan “Nate the Dogg” Mackinnon,” she says, flashing her hands in front as if to signal an imaginary banner, “I don’t know Nate “a dude who sits on his couch with his dog watching dumb shows” Mackinnon.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he responds deep in thought. “Fine, how about we play 20 questions? You ask me a question; I ask you a question.”

“How very high school, Nathan,” she pauses to think about it. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about this new friendship. On the one hand, it is her job to get to know the players. Although, she was pretty sure that the fraternizing was only supposed to be in professional contexts. On the other hand, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. And at the end of the day, it was Nathan Mackinnon, and he wanted to get to know her. Besides, she knew that he didn’t really date anyway, so she felt safe that there was one of them keeping their feelings in check. Eventually, she responds with a nod, “Sure.”

“Okay!” He said excitedly, his blue eyes lighting up, “Where are you from? Where did you grow up and go to college and stuff?”

“Nathan, that’s two questions. Should I deduct points from you?”

“There are points now?”

“I’m just kidding.”

And so, they went back and forth getting to know each other, talking animatedly, and laughing heartily, until they got through the 20 questions each. At one point, they had migrated to a table to continue sitting down because Nate noticed she was shifting on her feet from the heels. Charlotte was pretty certain that Nate now knew her better than anyone else in Denver.

Eventually, EJ came over and tapped Nate on the shoulder at which point she looked up and realized that most of his teammates and donors had left and they were a few of the last people remaining in the event space.

“Hey,” EJ smiled at you in his signature toothless way, “good to see you’re having fun, Charlotte.”

“Thanks, EJ,” she smiled back.

“Mac Daddy, you’re kind of my ride home, so… are you ready to leave?” EJ said laughing and looked at Charlotte, “I don’t think I’ve ever had to pull Nathan here away from a party before. He is usually begging me to leave.”

Nate bumped his elbow into EJ, not drawing much of a response, as he quickly looked away from her. She could have sworn his cheeks were turning a little pink, but that could also be the lighting.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s late and I want to be up for morning skate tomorrow, unlike you lazy idiots,” Nathan grumbled standing up.

She stood up too, only now realizing how tired you were. “Yeah, damn, it’s late. Well, I had a great time talking to you Nathan,” sending him a warm smile and a nod, “EJ. See you two later.”

As she started walking away, she heard some whispers behind her before Nate called out, “Hey, Charlotte, you good to get home? I mean, do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um… Actually… Sure. That would be nice. Thanks!”

She saw EJ whisper something in Nate’s ear before he was quickly shoved away. Suddenly feeling awkward, she trailed behind them quietly to Nate’s car. As soon as it was in sight, EJ called shotgun and started making a run for it, slipping a little on the ice, making Charlotte and Nate snort with laughter.

Nate offered a hand to guide her across the slippery ground and opened the car door for her, keeping his hand on her as she climbed in. She directed Nate to her apartment, thanking him and EJ quickly as she left. Once she got into her apartment, Charlotte leaned against the door and just smiled for a bit.

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the car, EJ was basically yelling at Nate.

“Dude, you dog, what was that?”

“EJ, stop.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never seen you talk to someone for that long. Not even Barrie or Sid.”

“She was easy to talk to. And it was a good way to get through the event.”

“Nate, don’t give me that bullshit.” EJ’s voice is rarely serious, but it is now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” Nate shrugged.

The rest of the ride to EJ’s house is quiet and as Nate pulled into the driveway, EJ finally spoke up again, “Tell me you at least got her number.”

“Shit,” Nate let out under his breath before he could stop himself.

“Oh my god, you idiot. You didn’t get her number.”

Nate let out a groan and tapped his forehead firmly on his steering wheel in frustration. As EJ shook his head, and said his goodbyes, Nate’s head was whirring with thoughts. There was no smooth way to ask for her number now. It’s like he missed an exit on the freeway and there was no way off now. The alcohol and the adrenaline meant he didn’t sleep much that night and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t make it to the optional morning skate, much to the surprise of everyone.

The rest of the season flew by as the team soared through the playoffs. Nate kept thinking about ways to ask Charlotte for her number but just couldn’t stop overthinking it and psyching himself out; eventually deciding to table the topic until after the season was over to focus on the Cup. But he reveled in every intermission or postgame interview where they got to talk, or the little conversations they would get to have in the arena or on the plane. Occasionally, he’d even slip in a hug, taking in her perfume, under the guise of celebration.

The gossip had now spread through the group — not surprising since EJ has never once kept a secret — and had been an ongoing chirp for Nate. It didn’t help that at the two galas since, Nate was the first one there excitedly scanning the room, but Charlotte wasn’t at either. He’d learn she was covering the Nuggets or the Rapids those nights and would then leave as early as possible.

It got even harder to not think about her as he neared the end of the season, where every phone call with his mom would eventually turn to his cousin’s wedding in the summer and whether he was going to bring a date. Family weddings were the one time he felt he couldn’t leave early, forcing himself to endure the suffering that was being single in your late twenties and watching people be in love. Not to mention all the comments and questions: wanting gossip, wanting a date, feeling sorry for him.

*          *          *

Charlotte was happy with the casual platonic friendship that she had found with Nate. She always looked forward to talking with him at games because he was always more relaxed with her than the other boys, even occasionally giving her a sweaty hug after a good, exciting win. Her co-workers had made some comments about how unusual it was, but she just chalked it up to them knowing each other better now.

The job kept her busy, busier than anticipated. And it felt like the year had flown by before she found herself at the celebration gala for the newly crowned Stanley Cup Champions. The atmosphere was different from the last event she had been to. That one was for schmoozing. This was only for celebrating. The energy in the room was intoxicating and she had a big smile plastered to her face as soon as she walked in.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd and congratulated everyone she saw and recognized. Eventually, she stumbled into Gabe.

“Congratulations, Gabe!” you yelled.

“Lotteee! Thank you!” he yelled back, pulling her in for a tight hug before spinning her around. He was so drunk, but he did look unbelievably happy. When he finally put her down, he grabbed her by the arm and very dramatically whispered in her ear while pointing, “Nate’s that way.”

She looked at him confused and surprised, but he didn’t let her say anything before not so gently pushing her towards Nate. And she didn’t protest, because when she finally saw him, she felt her heart speed up again. He looked jubilant, swaying slightly with EJ, face pink and hair messy. She had learned over the last month or so that she really liked the way he looked with the playoff beard.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to disturb whatever EJ and Nate were doing, but once EJ saw her, he let out a screech so loud she had no choice but to turn toward them. “Charlotte! Lotte! Lott Ness Monster! Come here!” But once you got here, he immediately left, vanishing to leave her standing in front of the very flushed Nathan Mackinnon.

“Hi Nathan, congratulations! Well deserved. It’s been an absolute privilege watching you this season,” she said, unsure what to do as her heart kept racing faster at the way drunk Nate was looking at her.

“Oh, stop with that professional speech and give me a hug,” he slurred, pulling her in tightly.

She chuckled and let herself enjoy the warmth and the firm contours of his body against her before forcing herself to pull away. He only let her get so far, leaving one arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at an event like this,” she said softly.

“Well, I had to! You weren’t at the last two of these, so I had to find a way to entertain myself with EJ,” he said, pouting. She had certainly never seen him pout, but she was even more surprised that he noticed and cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I had work. Sorry.”

“I know. Who even cares about the Nuggets.” he mumbled under his breath before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “GO AVS!” that was followed by a loud round of cheers. After a few seconds, he piped up excited again, “Are you enjoying yourself today?”

“Um… I think so! It’s nice to see everyone so happy and energetic.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling until she caught Gabe and EJ staring and pointing at them. Before she had the chance to ask Nate what that was about, he was pulling her towards Mikko on the other side of the room.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, laughs, and the warm firm feeling of Nate’s arm around her shoulders. With each passing drink, she found herself leaning into it more. She was sure her face was so red that it rivaled JT’s hair. But if the boys noticed, which they were too drunk to notice, they didn’t mention it. And even if they did, she doesn’t remember.

*          *          *

The next morning Nate woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He had collapsed on top of all his sheets fully naked, and so he also woke up with a slight feeling of shame and dread at what he might have done the night before. When he finally reached over to check his phone, it was blowing up with messages.

gabe the babe (INCOMING): dude did nate finally hook up with the lott ness monster

JT (INCOMING): omg nate, you have to tell us if you did

mooseman (INCOMING): he definitely did, did you not see how he literally didn’t stop touching her the whole night

Nate buried his head in his sheets and groaned, trying to rack his brain for memories of himself being an idiot around Charlotte last night. But he was drawing a blank. After minutes, he finally lifted his head again and opened a private text to EJ.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): ej, please tell me you remember if I did something stupid last night

EJ (INCOMING): yeah. you did.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): FUCK what did I do

EJ (INCOMING): you didn’t take lotte home with you you fucking idiot

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): what

EJ (INCOMING): you just fucking disappeared in an uber without even saying goodbye. and EYE had to make sure she got home okay

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): oh, well it could’ve been worse

EJ (INCOMING): HOW

EJ (INCOMING): HOW COULD IT HAVE BEEN WORSE

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): idk if I did something stupid or said something bad

EJ (INCOMING): dude, you have got to ask her out, you two clearly like each other

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): i have no idea what you’re talking about. we're just friends. we just work together. like you and me

EJ (INCOMING): YEAH RIGHT DOGG if you were touching me all night like that, we would be having a very different conversation ;)

EJ (INCOMING): please tell me you at least have her number now

Nate paused and thought back to the night before, but it was such a blur he didn’t know. But when he looked in his contacts, her number wasn’t there.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): nope

EJ (INCOMING): you are so fucking hopeless. i hope you find a pair at home this summer so you will finally do something about this crush

EJ (INCOMING): or maybe when we come back in the fall, she won’t be so single anymore and it won’t matter

Nate felt his stomach turn and he groaned. The hangover finally hit him but he was typing a sarcastic response when another message interrupted his thought.

Sarah (INCOMING): congrats again bro! are you bringing someone to the wedding?

Nate (OUTGOING): wow, really cutting to the chase this morning.

Nate (OUTGOING): and no.

Sarah (INCOMING): what you’re telling me a stanley cup winner can’t find a date

Nate groaned again and muffled a scream in his pillow. He knew that his sister and mom would not drop this subject from the moment he got home. He knew that they would probably try to set him on dates, or worse introduce him to every single woman at the wedding. He lay there, head on his pillow, for a long time, until finally, he had an absolutely insane idea. An idea that can only come to someone after the happiest day of their life followed by the biggest hangover of their life.

Nate (OUTGOING): fine, I’ll bring someone

Sarah (INCOMING): OH MY GOD WHAT WHO

Sarah (INCOMING): NATHAN RAYMOND MACKINNON IF YOU’VE BEEN DATING SOMEONE THIS WHOLE TIME AND HIDING IT FROM ME, I’LL KILL YOU. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE WON.

Nate (OUTGOING): nope, not telling

Sarah (INCOMING): you are a child and i hate you

Nate (OUTGOING): I love you. See you soon.

Sarah (INCOMING): URGH

Sarah (INCOMING): Love you too. I’m calling mom.

*          *          *

Charlotte woke up with a splitting headache and the room spinning at 6 am. And despite how horribly she felt, she couldn’t get back to sleep. She could still feel Nate’s arm on her shoulder, and his lips against her ear as he whispered something unintelligible, and the scent of his cologne lingering on her hair would waft into her memory every few seconds making her heart skip. She was absolutely certain that he was more drunk than she was, and that he was a touchy drunk. She felt even a little guilty for taking advantage of his touchiness, getting as much as she could last night.

After a few hours of being unable to get back to sleep, she peeled herself up and drew herself a bath with a cup of tea. She still wasn’t able to stomach food yet, but she felt her body relaxing in the warm water, finally letting Nate slip from her mind. Eventually, she got up and padded around the house thinking about the long summer ahead. It was her first summer with not a lot of work to do, and since it was her first year in Denver, she also didn’t really know many people or have any concrete plans.

She had just sat down at her computer to research ideas when she heard a buzz on her apartment intercom. She looked down at her phone confused, but there were no texts there from the few friends she had made so far.

“Hello?” she stutters cautiously into the intercom.

“Oh my god, thank fuck,” a familiar voice rang back, “it’s you. I’ve been buzzing every apartment and I swear your neighbors think I’m a crazy person.”

“What?”

“Um. Oh. Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Nate.”

She was stunned silent. Stunned and confused.

“Um… Nathan Mackinnon…” He filled the silence nervously, “You know… From the Avalanche.”

That snapped her out of her trance as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my god Nathan, I know who you are. Sorry. I was just confused. How do you know where I live?”

“Um, well when we first met, I dropped you off here. So, I made the gamble that you still lived here and just buzzed every apartment to see.”

“Oh. Wow,” she says, stunned, confused and flattered, “Um, is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He paused. “You know, I just realized how dumb this was. I’m really sorry to disturb you—”

“No!” she says louder than she intended, “No, Nathan, wait. Let me buzz you up.”

“Oh, okay, yeah! Thanks!”

She paced around her entryway, thoughts racing. The door knocks still startled her, and as she walked over, she looked down at her sweatpants and realized there definitely was no time to change and prayed she looked okay.

“Hi, Nathan,” she smiled, opening the door, “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” he hesitates and makes a gesture to hug her before chickening out, pulling away and stepping past her.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today?”

“Your apartment is cute.”

“Thanks. It’s not NHL superstar level, but it’s pretty good to me.”

He chuckles and leans a hip on the kitchen island, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly trained on the ground. She wasn’t really sure what to say, so she moved behind him to start making them both some tea. He studies her as she moves around and wonders how it’s possible she looks so good in your sweatpants and messy bun when he feels like his entire guts might just drop out of his body.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Um, so I realized I didn’t have your number.”

This made her laugh, a proper belly laugh. “What,” she manages to get out, “you came all the way here because you don’t have my number.”

“Well…” he hesitates, “Yeah. I mean, I never asked for it I guess.”

“Okay, do you want it now?” she was still laughing.

“Um, yes?” He was shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck with his hand, leaning awkwardly on the countertop.

“Okay,” she reached a hand out.

He looks at her confused and gives it a slap.

“That was for your phone, silly. Not for a five,” she was laughing even harder now. And his cheeks turned bright red as he handed her his phone, not meeting her eyes. She passes the phone back to him along with a cup of tea, “There you go. So… What was the huge rush? You could’ve emailed me or something for it.”

He paused and laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. I guess my brain doesn’t work very well when I’m hungover.”

Charlotte took a seat next to him on the kitchen island as they sipped their teas.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not why I came over. I mean it, but it isn’t the main reason.”

“Okay?” she encouraged.

“I had a really stupid idea and it was stupid at the time, but now I’m here it’s even dumber. So, I’ll just settle for the number.”

“Okay, Nathan, you can’t just say something that cryptic and not tell me.”

His face went bright red again and he shuffled in place. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to interrupt my hangover recovery and not tell me why.”

He sighed and looked away. After a while, he mumbled under his breath very quickly, “Fine. Icameheretoaskyouifyou’dcometomycousin’swedding.”

“What?” she said, not sure if she misinterpreted the mumbles or if she was dreaming.

“Um… Well, my cousin, back in Nova Scotia, is getting married in a few weeks. And my mom and sister keep bothering me to bring someone. And I just had this stupid idea. Because you’re the only person I’ve had fun with at those big events. So, this morning, in my post-Stanley Cup alcohol delirium I thought Hey, I should ask Charlotte if she wants to help me survive a social event and get my parents off my ass about not having a date? So here I am. But obviously, that was insane. So don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte looked at him, mouth open, in shock for longer than acceptable, and felt her own cheeks redden. A little lightheaded, before she could really stop to think, she responded, “Sure! I mean why not? What’s the harm in me going? I don’t have any plans.”

His head snapped up to meet her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and Charlotte is captivated by the way his sharp blues light up in response. It was when she saw the smile take over his face and her heart sped up that she knew this was probably a huge mistake. But a mistake she didn’t want to take back.

*          *          *

“So, how long have you two cuties been dating?” the fifth person in a row asked. Charlotte wasn’t sure if this was an aunt or a family friend, but she forced the smile back on her face as she responded.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We work together, kind of.”

The lady looked between the two of them, and Charlotte could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle again as she was acutely aware of Nate’s hand resting on her lower back.

“She’s here as my date, yes, but we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends,” he replies gently but firmly, the same way he had been doing all weekend, before changing the subject.

But she was lost in thought. She had been here for a few days, and she had to admit that Nova Scotia was beautiful, and Nate’s family and friends were wonderful. Despite not knowing Nate super well, she had never felt out of place. He had always made sure she was included in conversations, explaining anything that felt like an inside joke. She thought back to all the times she had met a boyfriend’s family — there hadn’t been that many, but enough to know that this was far better than any of them did.

Nate had been awkward and hesitant at first, jumping away every time he touched her by accident on the plane ride over and flinching when their knuckles brushed when he went to help her grab her luggage. But he slowly allowed himself to loosen up a little, reading her lack of discomfort as a good sign. He always prided himself on acting like a gentleman; even though women complained that he was stiff and unromantic, he tried. He found himself putting in an extra effort to hold open the door for her, to pull out a chair for her, to offer an elbow as she walked on the uneven pavement.

If Nate was in his head about every move he made, Charlotte was ten times more in her head. They had only really spent time together at work and work functions. And she wasn’t sure if that’s why something felt different here, more intimate, or if she was just imagining it. She was starting to feel like he was going out of his way to touch her; laying a hand on her knee when they were sitting next to each other, tapping her elbow to show her something, keeping a hand on her back when they were standing.

She had tried her hardest not to lean into his touch every time, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his large hand on her back felt—god, was his hand always this large. It was never too low as to be intrusive; just resting chastely on her mid back to remind her that he was there and was ready to take a break from the socializing at any point.

Whether she was imagining it or not, it was starting to drive her insane. Her skin constantly felt buzzing and hot, tingling in the places he touched, electrified in the places closest to him that craved his touch.

Nate’s low voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she responded as she felt her neck and ear flush with the brush of his lips on her ear.

“Oh, I was just asking if you want to go for a walk,” he murmured, “you’re looking a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, her voice coming out a little shaky with how close his tall frame was to her.

And so, she reached out and took his extended elbow as they slipped out of the rehearsal dinner and wandered down to the waterfront in silence.

“I can totally see why you love it here,” she finally said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“It’s beautiful. The water. With the lights reflecting. And all the beautiful trees. And the fresh air. I can understand why you love coming here in the summer.”

“Yeah, it’s truly something,” he looked over at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were warm and soft. It looked like he wanted to say something for a second before he shook his head and looked away. “I’m glad you came with me. You make these big events bearable.”

“Just bearable, Nathan?” she laughed, trying to break the tension in the air she couldn’t really explain. And his chuckles were quick to join hers in the warm summer air.

And just like that, they fell into a comfortable rhythm again, laughing and chatting. Eventually, he walked her back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms.

“Well, here you go, m’lady,” he joked, letting his arm fall from her for the first time in a while. He began to turn towards his room but hesitated for a second before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. She let herself melt into the hug, embracing the warm buzzing feeling in her chest as she felt his larger frame engulf her. He didn’t let go when she thought he was going to, instead whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what, Nathan?”

“For coming with me. For being so good with my family, even though they keep asking intrusive questions. For just being you,” he said, pulling back. They were standing so close together that she could see every shade of blue in his eyes as they looked at her intently. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before the smallest sharp intake of breath he tried to hide as he untangled from her. She could feel her body ache a little as her cheeks burned.

She didn’t know if it was the glasses of wine or the dizzying tension, but before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, Nathan,” she murmured, “good night.” She smiled as she turned away and opened her hotel room door as quickly as possible.

She didn’t dare to take a peek back at him, but if she had, she would have seen his eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in shock. Instead, she quickly ducked into the room, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against the cold wood, and closing her eyes. What the fuck am I doing, she said to herself, Nate is a sweet guy, who I work with. I’m just doing him a favor. And he clearly thinks I’m just a good friend, as he keeps saying to everyone. Get it together.

She walked away and started getting ready for bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as her mind raced through the moments of the day, all the little touches and glances and the sparkle in Nate’s blue eyes.

 *         *          *

The following day was the wedding, and the morning passed comfortably despite neither of them acknowledging the moment they both wanted to talk about so badly. Soon, she found herself sitting beside him in the church, watching the beautiful bride stand next to her adoring groom.

While the ceremony went on, Nate was having a hard time staying out of his thoughts as the celebrant talked about love and marriage and as the happy couple exchanged adoring words with each other. It was not that he hated weddings, not at all; in fact, he loved them. He loved the celebration and the emotion. But as the years went on, it became a stunning reminder of what he did not have. With every wedding and every failed relationship in between, he felt more alone, like maybe something was wrong with him.

Charlotte noticed that Nate seemed emotional, lost in his thoughts. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she could sense that he was troubled. At some point during the ceremony, when Nate found himself particularly emotional, he had reached his hand over and grasped hers. She had to try hard to hold back the small gasp that threatened to escape her lips. But seeing his troubled expression, she squeezed his hand. And, inexplicably to her, his hand never left hers, not during the rest of the ceremony, or the walk over to the cocktail hour space. He only reluctantly let go to help her to her seat once they got to the reception.

Although they both enjoyed the reception food, they had both been so deep in their own thoughts that their conversation with the table was stilted and almost awkward. Eventually, as the night wore on, and the gentle fuzz of liquor started to take over, they both started to relax. Nate, after starting and stopping for almost 15 minutes, finally asked her to dance; his heart rate racing as she excitedly nodded yes.

Which is how they found themselves on the dancefloor for over an hour. At first, it was awkward. They were standing a foot apart, dancing independently; she, laughing at Nate’s horrible dance moves, and Nate, feeling electrified by the way her body moved. Eventually, they got closer and closer together until they were swaying in each other’s arms to some horrible Mariah Carey song, making snide remarks in each other’s ears and not caring how obnoxiously loud they were laughing at the jokes.

A few drinks later, their inhibitions were lowered enough that she found herself with her back against him. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned into his warm, towering figure. Both of them were no longer sure if they were intoxicated by each other or the drinks, but they did not really care. After they were grinding to a Doja Cat song, she swore she felt something press against her back, but she was not sure as Nate swiftly excused himself to use the bathroom.

And that’s how she found herself at the bar by herself.

“Nate really likes you, you know?” she heard a voice say beside her. When she looked over, she saw his mom giving her a knowing glance.

“Oh, Mrs. Mackinnon, we’re just friends,” Charlotte managed to choke out, despite feeling her throat tighten.

“I know, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more there,” she smiled, laying a soft hand on her forearm. She had never felt herself sober up faster.

“I appreciate that, but we do work together,” she strained.

“Please, call me Kathy,” she continued, not acknowledging Charlotte’s weak protest. And when she did not respond, Kathy added, “You know, I’ve met a number of his girlfriends, and he had never looked at them the way he looks at you. Or even treated them the same way. He’s barely left your side since you got here.”

“Kathy, I’m sure that’s not true. You have raised an amazing son. I’m sure he is just as kind to anyone.” She could feel her cheeks feel heat as she started scanning the room, desperate for Nate’s return.

“Sweetheart,” Kathy spoke softly, “I have been married for many years. There is only one reason a person looks at someone the way he looks at you, and that’s love. If you feel the same way, you should tell him. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.”

She smiled as her husband came to stand next to her; and before Charlotte could protest again, she gave her a gentle hug before walking away, leaving her standing there with her head spinning at her words.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the bar and downed her drink in one go once the bartender handed it to her, earning an eyebrow raise. She jumped and let out a little squeak when she felt a warm hand press into her back.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Nate joked before he met her eyes and his brows furrowed, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she croaked out stiffly.

“Are you sure?” he stepped in closer which only made her stiffen more, “You seem… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?” she tried to say calmly, although it came out an octave too high, “What makes you say that? Nope. I’m fine.”

He furrowed his brow more and leaned back, confused, before removing his hand from her back and stuffing them in his pockets. There was a twinge of sadness in his eye as he looked around, unsure what to do. “Okay, then. Do you want to go back on the dance floor? Or I guess not. We could sit back at our table?”

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, finding a normal tone again, “Table sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just watching the other guests dancing, both deep in thought. She was stuck thinking about what Nate’s mom had said. If she thought about it, she could totally understand why an outside observer would see their relationship as something more than friends. But if Nate had feelings for her, why did he so insistently refer to her as his “good friend”? And even if he did like her, she wasn’t sure about the implications for her job. Was she going to get fired? Probably not, if she was upfront with HR. But she was new to the city and relatively new to the field. What if people started to see her as the girl who ‘goes for the stars’ or the girl who’s ‘just here to get in some rich athlete’s pants’. She had worked too hard not to be taken seriously now. And maybe if things worked out, it would eventually blow over. But if it didn’t work out… If it didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she felt it would be bad.

Meanwhile, Nate was panicking; combing through every moment of the evening, trying to find where things went wrong. He was finally feeling like he had an idea of how she felt. Like maybe if he told her his feelings, she would reciprocate. Did he go too far with the dancing? Was Drunk Nate too caught up in the moment and did something inappropriate and unwanted? Nate was never much of a verbal processor — he preferred to stew on things first, —  and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol lingering in his system but he felt the words trying to bubble up in his chest. He didn’t even know what the words would be; maybe words to explain how he felt about her, to make sure he didn’t do something wrong, to make sure she was okay.

When she finally felt the grip on her chest loosen and the thoughts begin to slow a little, she snuck a quick glance at Nate. His jaw was set firm, and brows furrowed. He was staring into the crowd on the dancefloor, but he was clearly not watching them. He looked tense, and she could see the panic she felt reflected on his face. She found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze; a move that clearly surprised him as he jumped a little before smiling and relaxing into it.

“Nate, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’m thinking of heading back to the room. Did you want to stay longer?” she said gently.

He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile, although the worry hadn’t left the contours of his face yet, “No, I’m actually ready to head back too. Come on.” He pulled her onto her feet.

They took the ten-minute walk back to the hotel in relative silence, tethered together by their interlocked hands. Nate spent the whole walk back planning his speech; he was going to tell her how he felt because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Holding hands with her just felt so right. But for her, despite how nice it felt, it caused an overwhelming sense of panic to rush back through her. It was nice. It was too nice. It was going to ruin everything.

Stepping out of the elevator, the words escaped her lips before she had the chance to hold them back. “Nate, I think this was a mistake,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He froze beside her and managed to choke out a “What?”

“Nate,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and backing towards her door, “This is giving me a taste of what I can’t have. And this friendship… I don’t think I can do this.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, still stuck in the spot where she left him, his voice louder than he had intended.

“The touching, the holding hands, the being sweet… It’s too much,” she said, unlocking the door, not meeting his eyes.

“What—” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. Her mind didn’t process that the pain she felt was echoed in his voice.

She sighed, stepping into the doorway, “I can’t do this, Nate. Because if we keep doing this, I’m going to fall in love with you. And I can’t do that while being your ‘good friend from work’. So, I’m going to bed. Good night.” She finally met his eye as she stepped back to shut the door, barely registering the way his face flickered from hurt to confusion to shock to hope.

Charlotte rested her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. She could feel the tears form and slide down her face. She tried to convince herself that it was the right move, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the sound of Nate’s mother’s voice saying ‘Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.’ What if Kathy was right? What if protecting herself from pain was causing more pain itself? What if it would work out? As she stood there, she listened for movement on the other side of the door, but she heard none. Was that hope she saw in his face there? If it was, what did it mean?

Before she could finish the thought, she heard shuffles and a rapid knock on the door that startled her. She didn’t know why, but she opened it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did something earlier that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I'm crossing a boundary now but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say this," he said, looking at her with concern. When she nodded, he continued speaking.

He confessed to her that he had never been this person before, love-struck and irrational. He had always been calm, detached, and calculated, but with her, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help being rash, like inviting her to the wedding or reaching out to touch her and be close to her.

She had told him that she couldn't do this because she was scared of falling in love with him, but he revealed that he might already be in love with her. He had been saying that she was just a friend and a colleague because he was scared, but he had never felt this way before and was afraid he would mess it up.

During the wedding ceremony, he looked around at everyone and realized that he had won the Stanley Cup this year, but he still felt off. He kept thinking about her - how her laughter made him want to make her laugh again, how her smile warmed his chest, and how he could still feel the tingle where their skin had touched even after she left.

He admitted that he had never been sure if he had truly been in love before, and maybe this was it. He thought they owed it to themselves to find out because he believed she might feel the same way. He knew it might not be the most rational decision, but it was everything he had to say.

Feeling a shaky breath escape her lips, she heard the voice in her mind, "Don't stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short." For the first time on this trip, she felt her mind still and smiled as she closed the distance between them. With her chest pressed to him, she looked up at him, admiring his soft and nervous blue eyes. She reached up to cup his neck and met him in a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and soft at first, as she chastely felt their bodies slot together; his hands finding her waist, and hers fisting his suit jacket to bring him closer. After not long, she felt Nate run his tongue along her lip and she allowed herself to deepen the kiss, conveying the emotion that was hard to put into words. The feeling of his firm hands against her waist and his muscular body against hers again made her feel as though she were on fire. And she had to admit, she liked this quite a lot. Eventually, they disconnected and rested their foreheads together as they took in the moment.

“So, are you going to say something?” Nate whispered.

 “Yeah, uh, ditto,” she whispered back, giggling slightly.

“That’s it?!” he leaned back in mock horror, “After I poured my heart out, that’s all you have to say?” She could see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I think for the first time in your life, you have spoken enough words for both of us, Nathan,” she laughed as she gave his chin a little pinch, drawing a laugh from him as well. She leaned back in to place another firm kiss on his lips before saying, “I like you a lot too. Like a lot a lot. It scares me. But, as the kids say, you only live once, and I need to stop being scared and just see where this goes because I think I might be in love with you, Nathan, and I need to find out if I am.”

He smiled broadly; it’s the smile she loves, the one where his nose scrunches a little and she can see the genuine happiness on his face. And as their lips rejoined, she slowly started to pull him back into her hotel room.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he says, disconnecting their lips briefly.

“Uh, right now? Sure, I guess,” she raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you always call me Nathan? Everyone always calls me Nate.” The question catches her off-guard and she laughed as she continued dragging him into your room.

“I was trying to remind myself to stay professional and not fall for you,” she laughed as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Right…That worked so well, I’ll have to remember that one for the future, Miss Charlotte,” he laughed back before kissing her again so deeply and passionately that she forgot whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

#Nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #Nathan mackinnon imagine #Colorado Avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #avs #Nathan mackinnon fic #Colorado Avalanche fic #avs imagine #avs fic #hockey imagines #rox writes

[silverdune]

iced oat latte, extra shot | p.sh

"could i get an iced oat latte with an extra shot, please?"

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: slice of life

character(s): park seonghwa (ft. you, as a barista, kim hongjoong, kang yeosang, choi san, choi jongho)

tags: guitarist!seonghwa, barista!reader, coffee shops, meet-cute energy, first meetings, fluff, sh plays guitar for an indie band and has a brow bar piercing, 5+1 things

word count: 4.5k

summary: droopy hair, an electric guitar and an iced oat latte, extra shot; add those together and you get a handsome, wonderful guy named park seonghwa - or, the five times he visits your coffee shop, and the one time you watch his band play..

a/n: for peony, aka @hyungseos-cafe, one of my closest friends in this entire world. i love you so so so much, thank you for everything that you've done, you mean so much to me. when i thought about what to write you, i went through a few ideas until it clicked: what better for the barista (😉) than a coffee shop meet-cute?☺️🫶 (wonder why i asked whether seonghwa was your bias?🤭 hehe now you know). i really hope you enjoy this, this one's for you!

The first time he steps into your coffee shop, there's a carry case for a guitar on his shoulder.

Your eyes flicker to the door as soon as it opens. It's become a sixth sense at this point; you are always in tune to when a customer enters. Most of the time it's a regular, someone whose order you've memorised from top to bottom, but sometimes you have the pleasure of a newcomer giving your café a chance.

You run a fairly quaint coffee shop on the corner of the street. Small in scale and loved for its botanical decor, you enjoy fairly steady streams of people coming and going, either for their morning espresso shots or their midday mochas. Nothing puts a smile on your face more than the way their eyes light up as you slide their beverage across the counter, and by the end of the day, the little notebook you leave out for people to write reviews has pages filled with the kindest comments. It's even got to a stage where you'll be needing a new one soon.

The morning had been relatively quiet - expected for a Wednesday. Your regular customers had already come and gone, and your coffee shop was now going through its lull period before the afternoon rush. One glance at your watch told you it was roughly 11am, and so you’d got to work wiping the counters down when the door opened almost unexpectedly.

You had never seen this guy before. He offers an amicable smile almost instantly and it makes you do the same in return. “..Hi!” you call out to him.

“Hey..!” he replies, waltzing over to the counter before setting his carry case down. You’re automatically intrigued by it, as noted by your head tilting to the side when he leans it up against the glass shielding all the baked goods. You don’t stare for too long though, and gaze back up at him with a polite grin on your face. “Could I get an iced oat latte with an extra shot, please?”

The swiftness at which he places his orders leaves you befuddled for a time until you can coax your brain back into gear enough to press buttons on the till. “U- um- Did you say oat milk..?”

“Yes, yeah- sorry-” he says, and it hits you just then that he is quite flustered.

You take a look at his face and it’s clear he’s in a rush to go somewhere. You wonder if the guitar case has anything to do with it, but you decide not to partake in small talk for the time being. This guy has got places to be. “With an extra shot, you said..”

In the midst of digging his wallet out of his jacket, he looks up. “Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I probably spoke really fast, it’s just I overslept and am nearly late for rehearsal..” A nervous laugh escapes him as he rests his elbow on the counter.

Rehearsal.. “That’s not a problem,” you assure with sincerity. Iced oat latte with an extra shot.

You tell him the price and he takes out a few notes before resting them in your hand. You count through, then place the money in the till and give him his change before directing him further along the counter so he can wait for his drink. He thanks you kindly and picks up his case then saunters over to the other side of the display case, his eyes fixated on the coffee shop itself.

In your peripheral vision, you notice that he is studying the environment like an art critic would scrutinise a painting. Everyone who has ever wandered into your café and chosen to make any kind of comment has only had the nicest things to say about it, but something about his unwavering gaze makes your nerves spike just a little.

It only takes you thirty seconds to complete the order, and by the time you’ve set it down in front of the new customer, his eyes are back on you. He smiles wide and it’s perhaps the friendliest you have ever seen on a person. “Thank you so much.” He takes the drink appreciatively. “Can I just say, I think this place looks so cute!” The second he says it your mind settles completely. “Did you do all the decorating?”

You humbly nod, “I did, yeah.. I just really like plants, so..” You vaguely gesture around at the variety of plants and flowers dotted all over the shop, and he glances around with a small chuckle. “That pretty much formed the basis of the whole theme.”

“I love it.” He looks back at you. “I’ll bring the rest of the band here soon, I think they’d really like it.”

Band.. bite your tongue, don’t ask questions, he’s in a rush. "Well, I’ll be happy to welcome them when you do decide to invite them along.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll definitely be visiting again. Have a great day!” He walks off with the case on his shoulder and the oat latte in his right hand. You forgo an embarrassing wave - it was a hard thing to unlearn from your early days - and simply return the well wish of a good day.

As you head back to the till to take the next customer’s order, the guitarist surprises you.

“This is so good, by the way, probably the best latte I’ve ever had!” You smile and thank him. “Thank you! See you later!”

The door closes and you are left to both ring the next customer’s order through the till, and dwell on just how.. wonderfully bizarre that exchange was.

The elderly woman on the other side of the counter offers you a curved smile as she pays for her cappuccino.

You think about what the rest of the band might be like as you make her order.

×-×

The second time he steps into your coffee shop, he is less flustered than before, and there’s no carry case.

He is wearing a different outfit than before, though due to the hurried nature of the first transaction you didn’t even think of his outfit.

Today it is a simple leather jacket over a white shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair is quite long and droops over his brows. There’s a hint of a brow bar tucked underneath the waves. He smiles at you as he approaches the counter. “Hi, again.”

‘Hi.. again,” you chuckle. “Same order, or something different?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Do you remember my order?”

It had been a few days since he had last come into your shop, but you could remember his order easily. “Iced oat latte with an extra shot,” you say, an almost smug grin on your lips.

His jaw drops in shock. “Wow.. I didn’t think you’d remember!”

“I’ve been running this shop for the last two years, I’ve come to memorise nearly every one of my customers orders.” A hand rests on your hip; there is a pride coursing through you that the man opposite notices straight away.

‘Well I must admit, I think that’s quite impressive.”

He seems more relaxed today. There’s less urgency, he appears to be up for a chat. You leisurely ring his order through and a lightbulb goes off in your head. “I imagine it’s similar to.. memorising guitar chords?”

His cheeks grow flushed and he eyes the floor briefly. “Ha.. Couldn’t hide the guitar case, huh?” He glances back up with a knowing look in his eyes.

The corner of your lips tilt up. “I won’t lie, it was quite the defining aspect of your entrance last week,” you joke.

He teasingly lifts his hands in defence. “Okay, okay, I admit, I play guitar for a band.. Though considering I literally mentioned my band the last time I was here, that’s not exactly a big revelation is it?” You shake your head playfully. “Damn it.”

You laugh out loud as you open the till to finalise the payment. He hands you over the exact amount this time and you pop it in before closing it.

As you both walk over to the opposite side of the counter, he picks the topic back up. “To answer your previous question, I suppose it is a bit like memorising chords. I’ve got so many up there-” he taps his temple, “and my bandmate always has me learning more. He says it’s good to flex the brain muscles but I swear I must have learned more than a hundred chords by now?”

“Holy shit- sorry..” You cover your mouth with your hand and it makes him laugh. “Shouldn’t swear in front of customers.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. How many times during rehearsals do you think I hear the frontman cuss? Answer: way too many times.”

You shake your head, a faint hint of a smile still on your lips. You finish up the latte and place it down in front of him, to which he thanks you before taking a sip. “This is seriously so good.. How do you make it so good?”

“Months of practice and good technique.”

“Typical magician, never giving away their secrets.”

You tap the side of your nose in an attempt to ignore any shyness at the comment. It’s a good thing the guitarist is walking away, otherwise he might notice that his innocuous statement is actually-

He turns to look directly at you. You hope your eyes growing three times their average size is not weird or anything.

“I never told you my name before. Might be worth knowing so you don’t just think of me as guy with the guitar for the rest of your life..”

You trample down any overt apprehension in a bid to seem cool and casual. “I don’t know, I was really betting on that nickname sticking.”

You can totally hold a normal, average conversation.

He titters at that remark. “Well, in case it doesn’t, the name’s Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa.

“Nice to meet you, Seonghwa.”

“Nice to meet you too.. N.” He draws emphasis on your name to make clear that he searched for it on your name tag. You suddenly feel its weight on your shirt. You had often wondered why you ever committed to wearing the damn thing from the start.

You look at Seonghwa. There are moments when you are reminded of the reason.

“I hope to see you again soon, Seonghwa.”

Internally, you scream. Why don’t you hide your face in the sofa while you’re at it?

Seonghwa smiles, teeth and all, and it almost sparkles against the lights in the café like a cartoonish effect. “I’ll bring the band next time, I promise.”

He leaves with that vow, and you are left to mull over exactly what you did for the universe to betray you like this.

Seonghwa’s kinda cute. And he’s a guitarist in a band. This is troubling.

You throw the cloth to one of your co-workers who had been watching this entire time and couldn’t get the grin off her face, then retire to the backroom for fifteen minutes to seriously reflect on this past week.

Had you been wondering whether he’d come back a second time? Maybe.

Did you think he would? Absolutely not.

Does he seem the type to follow through on his promises? He seems convincing enough.

Do you now have to prepare for the probability of an entire band waltzing through your door in a matter of days?

If Seonghwa is to be believed.. that's a handful more orders to remember.

×-×

The third time he steps into your coffee shop, there are four other guys with him.

You automatically assume they make up the rest of Seonghwa's band, and your thoughts are confirmed when Seonghwa steps up to the counter to greet you. “Hey, N! Told you I’d bring them along.”

When the five of them are standing directly in front of you, Seonghwa introduces his bandmates. “N, meet Hongjoong, San, Yeosang and Jongho.” He gestures to each guy as he says their names; to his left is Hongjoong, to Hongjoong's left is San, to San’s left is Yeosang, and to Yeosang’s left is Jongho.

“Hey!” You tip your head to the quartet on Seonghwa's tail and they all return the gesture in near unison. “Indeed you did; it's really nice to meet you all.”

"Pleasure's ours!" says Hongjoong. His bright blue hair was the first feature you spotted when he walked in. "We've heard you make excellent coffees."

You humbly eye the counter for a brief second before glancing back up. “Is that so?”

San pipes up, “Seonghwa told us so-” Yeosang nudges his side, and the rest of the band side eye him, most of all Seonghwa himself, who then makes eye contact with you with a nervous smile on his face.

Shyly, you drum your fingers on the side before asking, “What can I get for you all then?”

“Well, you know my order,” replies Seonghwa. His voice reaches a slightly lower octave than you’ve heard it go up to this point, and for some reason your heart skips a beat. Seonghwa clears his throat as he realises exactly how that sounded. God, does he wish the ground would swallow him whole.

You catch the way his bandmates exchange knowing looks before turning back to you..

..and you get a strong urge to hide under the counter.

Jongho speaks up to clear the awkward air, “Could I get a regular cappuccino, please?”

You tap a few buttons. “Any alternative milk?”

“No thanks,” he answers with a smile. You nod and wait for the next request.

Yeosang follows, “Regular latte for me please, do you have almond milk?”

“Almond? Yep!”

San continues, “I’ll have an.. iced americano please.”

“Iced americano..” you repeat back under your breath.

“And for me,” says Hongjoong, “just a regular iced americano as well, please.”

“So that's one cappuccino, almond latte, two iced americanos.. and one iced oat latte, extra shot.”

Seonghwa bows his head coyly at the fact you remembered. It shouldn't come as a surprise to him, and yet it makes his heart flutter a little.

This is only the third time you’ve crossed paths and already, he thinks you're incredibly kind and incredibly cute.

If only he had the courage to ask you..

“Is that everything for you?”

Your voice cuts through his thoughts and he almost fumbles over his words. “U- Uh, yeah, I think that's everything.” He confirms it with the other guys before you total up the cost. They pay for their respective drinks individually before standing to one side.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Hongjoong pulling Seonghwa away to talk to him. You don't let that distract you; their conversation is none of your business anyway.

As you get the drinks done, San steps forward and asks, “So, how long have you been running this café?”

“Oh, about two or so years.”

“Wow! Have you always wanted to open a coffee shop?” Yeosang and Jongho listen with equal interest.

Every so often, your eyes peer over their heads to the conversation between Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

You notice Seonghwa's facial expression - he seems.. exasperated?

“Um, N?” Yeosang snaps you out of your thoughts and you shake your head mildly. Damn curiosity.

“Oh, uh- ahem, well..” What was the question, what was the question.. coffee shop! “Ah! I guess it was always kind of a dream of mine? In the back of my head, I wondered what it would be like to open a cute little coffee shop. It took a lot of hard work to get here though. What about you and the band?”

Jongho answers, “That all started with those two.” He gestures to the pair behind them coming to the end of a seemingly heated discussion before arriving back at the counter. They realise everyone - including you - have turned to them and clear their throats of embarrassment.

“Is everything alright?” Hongjoong wonders.

“Oh, yeah, N just asked about us and the band,” replies San.

Seonghwa makes direct eye contact with you.

You divert your gaze and carry on making the drinks.

The air goes silent for only a few seconds and yet it feels like a few hours. Seonghwa moves to stand beside San and he can sense Hongjoong’s eyes boring into his back.

You finish making the two iced americanos and slide them across the counter. Both Hongjoong and San thank you and you move on to making the almond latte.

Hongjoong takes a sip and lets out a pleased hum, “Hm, this is really nice.” San nods in agreement. “So I guess it’s true, you do make excellent coffees.”

You chuckle under your breath, unable to ignore how Seonghwa keeps going back and forth between looking at you and staring at his hands.

It’s almost like he wants to ask you something.

Jongho brings a clenched fist to his lips and coughs into it deliberately, “Why don’t you tell them about how we started the band?”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both lock eyes with him. Hongjoong gives Seonghwa a look then sips his americano.

Through a grit-like expression, Seonghwa turns back to you and says, “We’ve been a band for about three years. Hongjoong and I have known each other for five years, it was really his idea.”

“You were good at the guitar and I liked to write music, it felt like a no brainer,” Hongjoong explains.

You finish up the latte and pass it to Yeosang, who nods his head appreciatively. You turn back to Seonghwa and feel nerves creep up the back of your neck.

Something about the conversation they’d had left you feeling out of sorts. The way Seonghwa is looking at you now, his timid eyes and twitching lips teetering on the edge of getting something off his chest that you are most unsure of, is making you rather conscious of how slow your movements are. You make an effort to hurry through the rest of the order as you can see a queue forming across the counter.

Once the remaining two drinks are done, you hand them over and smile. Seonghwa smiles right back at you, and as the band bid you goodbye and turn to leave, you catch Hongjoong nudging Seonghwa back towards you as Seonghwa protests each gesture.

You distract yourself by tending to the next string of customers, all now rather impatient that they had to wait an extra couple of minutes while you were busy with the band. Every other second, you catch Seonghwa and Hongjoong still standing at the door, and at the very last second, they both leave.

It isn’t lost on you that Hongjoong appeared disgruntled at a display of what seemed to be stubbornness.

For the rest of your shift, you question exactly what happened between them, why Seonghwa was looking at you like that and why Hongjoong was acting the bizarre way that he was.

One thing is for certain; it wasn’t exactly the smoothest introduction to Seonghwa’s bandmates.

×-×

The fourth time he steps into your coffee shop, he stands motionless at the door for a few seconds.

You hear the bell and instantly look over, only to find Seonghwa staring out of the window with his hands on his hips.

A part of you wants to call out to him and ask if he is okay. You don’t want to tear him from his train of thought, though, so you continue wiping down the coffee machine and other such tasks that need doing during the lunch rush.

While you step out from behind the counter to clear a few tables, Seonghwa turns around to find that you have disappeared. He anxiously searches for you and spots you in the far corner of the cafe, spraying a table and cleaning it with a cloth.

He breathes in and out a few times, wondering if he should go through with what he knew he wanted to do the second time he stepped into this coffee shop.

Every day since the last time - a whole two weeks at this point - he had been thinking about how that occasion went.

Not the smoothest, he reckoned.

Hongjoong had harped on at him that if he liked you, he should just swallow his nerves and ask you.

But now, you seem preoccupied. He doesn’t want to distract you. He also doesn’t want to make a bigger fool of himself than he probably did last time.

With an exhale, he turns his back and leaves the coffee shop.

You raise your head and see the door closing behind a familiar figure, that same figure walking further and further away from your cafe.

You shrug a shoulder to yourself. Maybe you won’t get that answer.

At least you can say it was nice to meet him. He was a kind, sociable soul. You’ll think about that smile for some time.

With that in the back of your mind, you continue your shift as normal.

×-×

The fifth time he steps into your coffee shop, there’s a carry case for a guitar on his shoulder.

It had been a whole fortnight.

In truth, Seonghwa’s face had popped up in your head from time to time. You wondered if he would ever pay a visit again, just to see how you were, or maybe try one of the baked goods you’d noticed he had been eyeing each time he walked through the door.

It’s a surprise to see him again, albeit a pleasant one.

Much like the first time, he appears flustered, but for some reason this feels different.

The calm way in which he approaches the counter doesn’t invoke any urgency, and the way he casually sets his case down doesn’t impart any sense that he needs to be anywhere anytime soon.

With a deep breath, you stand behind the till and say, “Good afternoon, Seonghwa. Long time no see.”

Seonghwa grins at you. “Way too long.”

It is statements like that that suddenly make everything from a fortnight ago come flooding back.

The way he waltzed into the coffee shop then left not five minutes later.

The way it appeared that he was itching to tell you something or ask you something when he was here with the band.

The way Hongjoong was coaxing him into going back to you when they were all prepared to leave.

The way he is looking at you right now.

He is still undeniably cute. You can’t hide from that.

You also cannot hide from the fact that he is making you feel rather bashful just by gazing at you.

“Same as always?” you ask.

“As always,” he replies. You tap a few buttons. You’re about to tell him the price when he stops you in your tracks. “And a chocolate chip muffin, please.”

“One chocolate chip muffin, no problem.”

The air becomes tangible and Seonghwa wishes he could grab it and throw it out the door so he had even the slightest chance of breaking through his nerves.

“That’ll be-”

“N-”

You stare at one another.

Your eyes go wide and Seonghwa’s mouth gapes open just a little.

“Oh, sorry, um, let me..” Seonghwa takes out the cash and hands over a bit more than necessary. You take the cash and hand back the change, the words now caught in your throat as your mind goes at a million miles a minute.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath then looks up at you. “N.. You know, I really wish I had done this last time, or the time before that.. In fact even the time before that, ha..” He laughs nervously then rubs the nape of his neck. You stand completely still, unable to move or do anything when you realise that he actually does want to ask you something.

So your suspicions were right.

Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat, gives himself a mini pep talk, then glances at you. “N. I know we’ve only crossed paths a handful of times but.. I think you’re really.. great.”

You let out the tiniest giggle and try to suppress the smile on your face.

Seonghwa grips the bridge of his nose and sighs, “God, that didn’t come out right. Basically-” He makes eye contact with you. “I wondered if you would like to come and see me and the band perform tomorrow night.”

The world stops for a second.

You stare at him, amazed.

“Oh.” It’s the only word that comes out of your mouth.

Seonghwa waits with bated breath for your response. It only takes you a couple seconds to think about it.

“I’d love to.”

That dazzling smile, teeth and all, comes running back as Seonghwa pulls a card out of his jacket pocket and gives it to you.

“That’s the venue and the time,” he says. “I’ll see you then?”

You hold the card tightly in both hands. Your heart rate has suddenly gone up; your eyes flicker up to him with a smirk.

“Absolutely.”

×-×

The first time you watch Seonghwa and his band play, you know for sure that it will not be the last.

Watching him play, you can feel the passion radiating off the stage. His voice is amazing too, serving calm backing vocals in contrast to Hongjoong’s rougher frontman energy.

You can see that he plays the rhythm guitar, while Hongjoong plays the lead, San plays the bass, Yeosang has the keyboard and Jongho has the drums. They work in perfect sync, driving rhythms and melodies straight through the floor and up to the ceiling. The atmosphere they bring is second to none, and in the back of your mind you make a note to buy an album of their music.

Every so often, Seonghwa catches your eye in the crowd. He smiles every time he sees you, and you can’t help but smile right back.

Seonghwa is so glad he finally plucked up the courage to ask you to attend.

Once the gig is done and they have said their goodbyes to the audience, you meet with the band and invite them back to the coffee shop to make them drinks.

Just like Seonghwa, you remember all of their orders.

As you hand over his iced oat latte, extra shot, he places something in your palm.

Looking down, you study the object, then immediately gaze back up at him. “Wait, is this-”

“As a thank you, for attending, and for your generosity, and for just generally being an incredibly kind person.”

You pout a little, feeling very touched, before explaining that you were planning to buy this album..

“Accept this as a gift from us to you,” he assures. You look at him again.

Seonghwa lifts his beverage to you before taking a sip of it. You chuckle and hold the album close to your chest.

You’re rather hooked on this guitarist.

Who knows? Maybe next time he steps into your coffee shop, you will have the same courage he did.

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost. ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa x reader #words.(ave) #fic: iced oat latte

[bqstqnbruin]

Ghost of You

Hello hello I'm here with a fic that might make you upset oops

This was inspired by some of @laurenairay's 1.5k follower celebration fics and Ghost of You by Five Seconds of Summer

Shoutout to @kat-hearts and @wyattjohnston for reading through this and editing/giving suggestions for this because they're amazing and then I'm tagging @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby just to annoy them

Word Count: 6701

Warnings: Alcohol, Swearing, Mean

Flashbacks are in italics

_________________________________________

You told yourself it would never get serious. It was just supposed to be fun.

Yet, there you were, sitting on the floor of your bedroom feeling like you had your heart ripped out. Your friends told you not to date him, not to get close to him, that there was nothing good that could come from being with him. He wasn’t at the point of wanting to commit to anyone. You thought you wanted the same. 

He was just supposed to be a hookup. 

There was no reason why a fucking social media post should be bothering you the way it did. 

Fuck it. You had time off work banked, you had a car with a tank at least half full of gas from what you remembered, and your mom had just complained that she had hotel points she was going to lose and practically begged you to take off her hands, and you had always wanted to go to Vail, your friends telling you how much fun they had the last time they went without you. 

What better way to get over someone than by just running away from everyone else? 

Your phone was lighting up every few minutes with texts in the group chat, the one that didn’t have him in it, calls from your friends, his teammates, all of them worried about where you were and why you weren’t answering. You were glad someone was worried about you, but you couldn’t pull yourself together long enough to answer their calls or look at their texts without breaking down into that horrible, gut-wrenching sob, the kind that drove you to the point of dry heaving. 

Cale told you he liked you. He told you that he felt a way about you that he didn’t know how to put into words. He looked at you and said he could see himself with you for a while when he hadn’t thought that about anyone, at least not in a long time. 

He didn’t have to tell you he was seeing other girls and that he needed space. He didn’t  need to send the text telling you that he thought it would be better for both of you if you didn’t want to talk anymore because he didn’t want to lead you on. He didn’t have to let you believe that everything he had told you was true, letting you fall for him the way you thought he was falling for you. 

You turned your phone on Do Not Disturb, your lack of ability to know where you’re going and which way you’re heading barring you from turning off your phone completely. All you could do was grab the bag you packed for the weekend, fill up your car with gas, and hit the road for the hour and a half road trip to the hotel in Vail. 

You take one last look through your apartment, the normal “what if I left this plugged in/on and it caught on fire?” panic setting through you in the minutes before you want to leave when you notice the coffee cup sitting there on your kitchen table. 

Cale spent his first night at your place not long after you started seeing each other. You weren’t even really sure if what you were doing was considered dating by the day’s standards, just knowing you were somewhat ‘together.’ You two were out late at a bar with his teammates and some of your friends the night before, Cale insisting on walking you back to your place to make sure you were home safe, not worried about practice the next morning for once in his life. 

The two of you spent the night talking, your laptop perched at the edge of your bed, Cale with his arm pulling you close while your head rested on his chest, his heart beat making you tired with the steady rhythm. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until his alarm was going off that following morning, the two of you entangled in each other and neither of you wanting to move from where you were. 

“You have to get ready for practice,” you whispered, feeling his arms pull you closer when you didn’t think that was possible. 

“I have time,” he murmured against your forehead, a light kiss placed there that made you melt in ways you didn’t know you could. 

“I’m not going to be responsible for you being late,” you tell him, trying to pull away. You had to start getting ready for your day, too, his alarm only making you do it much earlier than you had planned. “Plus, I need coffee.”

Cale mumbled something again, you managing to get yourself free of him, turning around to see his arms still reaching out for you to come back. “No, stay here,” he whined.

“Cale.”

“Please?” 

“I’m making coffee.” 

You laugh to yourself as you hear him calling for you, the coffee pot coming to life and the smell of the drink filling your nose, when you feel Cale’s arms snake around your waist, planting soft kisses along your neck and working his way up to your jaw. You turned your head slightly towards him, his grip tightening as his lips find yours. You turn your body completely to face him, your back arching against the counter as he kisses you harder, a smile on his lips as they make their way back down your neck, your hands making their way to his hair as a small groan leaves his lips when you give it a slight tug. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he tells you, another kiss planted on your lips. 

“You have to, though,” you lament, the coffee behind you finally ready. You turn around with his arms still around you, reaching for the cabinet where you keep an unnecessary amount of mugs that are almost never used. “Which one do you want?”

You held in front of him the two most ridiculous mugs that you had, knowing that the laugh about to come out of him would easily be your new favorite sound. One mug was made in the shape of a bulldog’s head, something your dad claimed he got when he was visiting a friend at Georgetown, but there’s no way a university with that much intelligence would sell something like that, the other one something that had to be given at a retirement party or a memorial service or something, an old man named ‘Randall’ plastered on it in various states of adulthood with the dates 1960-2020 written on it. 

“You know, Serina told me about these,” he starts, holding back more laughter and referring to your best friend. “But, she really didn’t do them justice.” 

“Whichever one you pick is yours , the unofficial ‘Cale’ mug of my apartment.” 

He laughed, kissing you again in a way that made you want him to keep doing it forever. “I guess I’ll take Randall?” 

You meant to throw out the mug, donate back to the thrift store that you got it from a few years ago since Cale was the only one in your apartment who was allowed to use it. Every time he was over, it was out on the table. Every time he left, it was in your dishwasher to be cleaned for the next time he was coming. You didn’t even remember putting it on the table. 

You swallow hard, putting the mug in the corner of your kitchen where a pile of his stuff that you didn’t want to look at already sat. 

Your phone lights up, one of your friends using the ‘notify anyway,’ feature that made your blood boil. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. They all had your location, they could see where you were.

Driving was your least favorite thing to do, avoiding it at all costs, so the fact that you even thought you were going to take a road trip by yourself on the premise of ignoring everyone you could talk to, was baffling. Just you and your thoughts with only the road to distract you.

The little tv screen on the gas station started talking to you, one of those stupid commercials that probably didn’t pay their actors enough making more noise than any car on the street. The commercial couldn’t bother you as much as what you forgot was in the back seat of your car, the Stanley Cup playoffs sweatshirt Cale gave to you sitting there, slightly faded and probably incredibly dirty having rarely been washed, staring back at you like it was taunting you. 

The night before the game, Cale was a wreck. He was in his hotel room in Boston, he called you panicking, pacing back and forth on the hotel carpet. “What happens if we lose?”

“Then you come back and win game seven at home,” you tried to reassure him. 

“What if we lose because of me?”

“Has that happened before?”

“No specific examples that I can think of come to mind, but what if I blocked them out because of the trauma?”

You bit your lip, finding it weirdly endearing that he was this nervous about the game. You knew how much was riding on this, the Avs down 3-2 in the series, meaning this was win that game and force the even more nerve wracking game seven, or lose and hope for next year. “While that is totally valid,” you started, “In the time that I have known you, you have not been the reason the team lost a game.” 

“What if-”

“Cale,” you cut him off, “I get that you’re nervous, but you know the best way to go to sleep before a game is to be calm.”

“Easier said than done,” he huffed.

“I know. What can I do to help?”

He stays silent for a minute, the pacing finally stopping. “Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“I wish you could be here for the game tomorrow.” 

You felt your heart break, knowing that the one thing he apparently wanted was the one thing you couldn’t give him. “Cale,” you breathe out. 

“There’s a flight from Denver to Boston tomorrow morning that would get you here before we’re done with practice.” 

“You’re looking at flights for me?” 

“If you want to. I’d pay,” he offered.

“Cale, I can’t let you do that,” you started. You weren’t together. You were just supposed to be hooking up, and the fact that he was about to pay how much money for you to get on a flight to see him halfway across the country was something you didn’t do for someone you were just hooking up with. You hadn’t even been to one of his games yet. Only some of his teammates knew you two even knew each other. “I can’t get the time off work with this short of notice unless I have a doctor’s note.” He had to know it was a lie, you feeling a pinch in your chest when the silence on the other end of the line went longer than you had wanted it to. “I’m sorry.”

He cleared his throat, finally, your heart breaking with the sound. You knew he was disappointed. You wanted to make him feel better, but this was too much right now. You still hadn’t even had the conversation about what you were to each other. “No, no, I forgot, sorry. It’s fine.”

“Cale-”

“Hey, I gotta get going,” he tells you, hanging up on you before you can say anything else.

You weren’t wrong, were you? It would have been amazing to fly out on short notice to see a game where your favorite team won the cup. To be there with a player you were dating? Even better. But you weren’t dating him. You liked him, sure. What’s not to like about this perfect guy, an incredibly sweet person who you feel lucky enough to know, your heart skipping a beat whenever his name shows up on your phone screen, when you hear your friends or coworkers mention his name in conversation, only a few of them knowing that you were seeing him in any capacity. 

You had the sudden urge to call him back, tell him that you weren’t going to say fuck it to work and that you would be there waiting for him when he was done with practice. Your finger hovered over his name in your call log, the outgoing call could show up on your screen in a matter of seconds if you just pressed the button. 

You couldn’t do it. 

That would be something you did if you were his girlfriend and you wanted to go see him in one of the biggest games of his career. You would do it if what you had with him was serious, or you at least knew for sure how you felt about each other, you knew where this was going. You had no answers and now was not the time to find them out when the guy you needed the answers from was busy pacing back and forth in a hotel room and probably on his way to vomiting. 

The next night, you were with your friends in a shitty bar watching them, the black and gold logo at center ice mocking you as the score was 4-0. The camera panned over Cale, the bar too loud to hear what the announcers were saying, but you knew it wasn’t good. They were saying the exact things Cale was worried about the night before, that he wasn’t playing his best and that it was his fault they weren’t winning the game. There was minimal chance of recovery for them at this point, and while it wasn’t impossible, Boston had done it before, the Avs hadn’t to your knowledge. The game looked like it was about to end, a shutout loss for the team in the game that could have kept their hopes alive. 

The camera flashed back over to Cale, his mouth covered by his glove as he fought back tears. This was supposed to be their year. It was supposed to be them winning the cup.

You left the bar before the game was fully over, the image of Cale in tears enough to make you do the same. You shouldn’t be this broken up over a boy you weren’t seeing. There was no need to be this broken up over him. 

You started walking home, the air cooling down as it got later in the night. You felt your phone vibrating, expecting it to be one of your friends asking you where you went. 

Cale’s name flashed on your phone, your heart racing. You were afraid to answer it. What were you going to do if he was crying on the other end of the call, if you could hear the guys in the background also upset. You weren’t sure you could take it. 

You reluctantly answer, letting out a weak hello in anticipation of him being upset. 

“You should have been here,” he said, an angry tone in voice that you weren’t expecting. 

“What?”

“You should have been here,” he repeated, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “I spent the entire game wishing you were here, that I could look up to the box and know you were there even if I couldn’t see you, and it fucked me up. We lost because of me. We lost because you weren’t there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spit, “I told you I couldn’t come. How is it my fault I can’t just leave my job?”

“You should have been here,” he tells you a third time, his voice raised this time, “Up in the box with all the wives and girlfriends.”

“I guess I would have to be a wife or a girlfriend to be there, then, huh?” You hung up before he could say anything else, a sob escaping your body that you didn’t even know you had in you. 

Cale spent the rest of the night trying to reach you, texting, calling, dming on social media, any form of communication you ever had between each other was being used by him while you ignored him. 

How dare he blame you for the team losing the game. He wasn’t the only person on the team, and he wasn’t even on the ice for three of the goals. It wasn’t his fault they lost, and it definitely wasn’t yours, either. 

You fell asleep angry, your phone never ceasing to be lit up by Cale’s constant attempts to reach you. He had family he could call, someone else he could contact. Anyone besides you, the person he was hooking up with in a way that wasn’t supposed to be serious. 

You woke up the next morning, unsure if the pounding was from the brutal hangover made worse by your bad mood, or if someone was trying to break down your door. You get out of bed, sure to mention a few expletives while you make your way to your door to find Cale standing on the other side, eyes bloodshot and his face looking pale. 

“I’m sorry.”

You stood there, staring at him, trying to process him being there in the first place. You clench your jaw, trying to stay with the same attitude you had the night before. “You should be.” 

You invite him in, Cale finding his way to your couch. You sit on the opposite side, trying to position yourself as far away as possible. “That was unfair of me,” he started. You sit there, waiting for him to continue. “I shouldn’t expect stuff like that from you when we aren’t, you know,” his voice trailed off.

He should just say it to you, tell you that you weren’t actually his girlfriend. You wanted to hear it from him, even if it was going to rip your heart out in the process. 

“I like you, Cale. A lot,” you told him.

“I like you, a lot, too,” he said, shifting himself so he was sitting right next to you. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to kiss the side of your head. You wanted more from him, more than just the confirmation that you liked each other. You had been playing this game for more than a month now, that stupid hook up turning serious when you weren’t supposed to get this close. 

“I brought you something,” he broke the silence that had fallen between the two of you. He pulls the sweatshirt off his body, the one that he had been wearing for the last month and a half or so, the one that was for the playoffs that each player got. “You keep stealing my sweatshirts when you stay over, I figured I would give you one, instead.” 

That fucking sweatshirt. You jump when the pump clicks off, momentarily forgetting that you were outside a gas station at that very moment. You could just throw the sweatshirt out, the trash right there between the pumps. You take the sweatshirt out of your backseat, standing there in front of the trash can longer than you probably should. You couldn’t throw it out. You pop your trunk, throwing it behind your bag that was sitting there waiting to be in a hotel room with you, relaxing and far away from everyone. 

What else did you have to do besides drive to the hotel at this point? You check your phone one last time before you hit the road, the notifications not stopping as your friends start to panic when they watched you leave the house, your ‘Find My Friends’ feature showing them you were at the gas station. 

‘I’m fine, just need to get away,’ you send them, not wanting to give them anymore. 

You scroll through the rest of the notifications, your mom the only person who really knew where you were going. You see a notification from Nate, one of Cale’s teammates and one of Serina’s best friends, a missed call for the first time in who knows how long. 

You try to ignore the notification, that one sticking out to you more than the rest. Plugging in the directions to the hotel, you finally start driving towards Vail. 

Everyone around you was beyond shit faced. The Avs were about to start training camp, the last party someone thought to throw at one of their houses before they had to get back to work after the previous season. They were out for blood, but first they were out of alcohol. 

It was a surreal experience to be the most sober person in a room. You weren’t able to operate machinery or make big decisions in any capacity, but you at least were sure you were going to remember the rest of the night. 

You were sitting on the couch by yourself, scrolling through your Instagram feed, trying to ignore the fact that Cale was on the other side of the room, flirting with some girl one of the other guys brought. 

He had the right to. You still weren’t exclusive, still not calling each other anything more than the person you were hooking up with. You weren’t seeing anyone else, but you hadn’t told him that. You didn’t even want to ask if he was seeing anyone else. That was only going to lead to you being upset. And while you’re drunk, you shouldn’t be upset. Because when you’re upset and drunk, you were bound to make a stupid decision.

No matter what was on the screen in front of your face, you couldn’t help but look up at Cale. You knew he saw you. You knew you were right in his line of sight. You had caught him looking over at you a few times already, a stupid smirk on his face that made your blood boil. He knew what he was doing. 

Motherfucker.

“You called?” Nate said, plopping down next to you with such force your phone falls out of your hands and onto the floor. When you look at him confused, he continued, “You said, ‘motherfucker,’ so I made a bad joke.”

“I didn’t know I said that out loud,” you admit. 

Nate laughed, loudly, or at least, loud enough to make the heat rush to your cheeks, and enough for Cale’s attention to finally turn to you for more than a second. The smirk on his face immediately turned to a scowl when he saw Nate, probably sitting too close to you for his own comfort. 

“So what’s up with you and Cale?” Nate asked. You shrug, hating that you had to have this conversation yet again after having to have it with your friends who knows how many times. “He’s not your boyfriend, though, is he?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not at all.” 

A sickening smile grew on Nate’s face, his arm snaking away around your waist. “Is this ok, then?” he whispered. 

You could see Cale’s face getting red from here, watching Nate flirt with you like he was. Nate knew what he was doing. The entire team knew what you and Cale were up to, there’s no way he didn’t know. “Yes,” you said. 

Nate got as close to you as he could, pulling you so you were practically sitting in his lap. “What about this?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Yes,” you told him again, turning your head to face him, his lips tantalizingly close to you. You glance to the side, Cale’s entire body now turned towards you and Nate. You didn’t want to kiss his teammate, which was where it looked like this was going, but if it made Cale feel anything about you, you were sure it was worth it. 

Before you could process what was going on, Nate’s lips were on yours, moving fast in the way that Cale’s always did at first, that urgency and hunger that he had for you showing with how he couldn’t wait to have your entire body touching his. 

He wasn’t Cale, though. He was Nate, not Cale. 

The only thing going through your mind was that he wasn’t Cale. 

You pull away just as fast as Nate had pulled you in, managing to get out of his grip and got off the couch as fast as you could. You ran to the nearest door you could get into upstairs, your heart racing as you searched to see if you were the only one in the room. You couldn’t have someone in there watch you break down over a guy. 

You waited in the room for what felt like forever, the stupid drunk part of you thinking that Cale would come through the door to see you. Or at least Nate would check to make sure you were ok. 

Neither of them came. 

You felt like you were already driving for hours, when it really was just twenty minutes alone with your own thoughts. How were you supposed to get away from everything when it seemed like everything you saw reminded you of a fucking guy? 

Your music wasn’t enough to keep your thoughts away from Cale, every one with lyrics about being in love or about feeling like you weren’t good enough. Why were those the only two moods you felt? 

Your stomach starts to make noises, suddenly remembering that you hadn’t eaten anything since the afternoon before at work, wondering how well you could navigate the roads of whatever small town you were driving through at that moment to find food. You reprogram your GPS quickly, a diner about five minutes off the exit of the highway. You weren’t even sure what you wanted, you just knew you had to have something. 

A waitress comes over to where you sat down, ordering a burger and fries since it was the only thing you could comprehend as something you’d eat while you tried to figure out why the place seemed vaguely familiar. 

Diners had a weird place in your mind. They were the place where you went at 2 in the morning with your friends after a drunk night, where you went for cheap food and lots of it for breakfast at noon or later after a drunk night, or where you got something quick to eat before getting drunk that night. You could probably count on one hand the number of times you had been to a diner where alcohol wasn’t involved at some point around going. 

Cale had texted you that night that he wanted you to come over. You did, because of course you did. You wanted to see him, and apparently he wanted to see you. You spent the night together, waking up with his arms wrapped around you, his bare chest pressed against your back and his breath tickling the back of your neck. Every time you woke up like this, you couldn’t help but feel like you could fall for him harder than you already did, like you could be with him more than you already were. 

Cale stirred awake, mumbling something against your neck after pressing a sweet kiss against your skin. You turn over, stretching and yawning as he finally released you from his grasp. 

“Wow,” he said, his raspy voice making your heart skip a beat. He stared at you for a second before continuing, “You are beautiful.”

You didn’t know what to say to him, leaning over to him to kiss him as the only response you could think of. You wanted this to be more with him. 

“Hey, can we,” you started, not entirely sure where you were going to end up. 

“Let’s get breakfast,” he said before you could finish, jumping out of bed and throwing a shirt on. He handed you one of his sweatshirts, it hanging on you and hugging you with his smell. You still had the sweatshirt he had given you up in your apartment, sitting on your bed and afraid to wash it because you didn’t want to lose that scent. 

He drove you outside the city, a small diner that you had never heard of. Everything was shockingly blue, the seats, the tables, the walls, you were sure the lighting also was as well. 

“How do you know about this place?” you asked him as you slid across from each other in the booth, confused as to why he would bring you here, of all places, when there were plenty of breakfast places within walking distance of his apartment, 

He shrugged, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb aimlessly tracing the back of your hand. “I found this place my first year here. I come here when I want to get away from the city but can’t really get away for any meaningful amount of time. It’s kinda special to me.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Him taking you to a place that was special? That had to mean something, right? “I’m honored, then,” you blushed. He had never really taken you anywhere in public, not without your friends or his teammates. Was this a date? 

“I’ve taken some of the guys here, too,” he told you, releasing your hand to look through the menu. “Nate’s favorite thing, surprisingly, is the banana walnut french toast.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of his teammate known for having an incredibly strict and almost grossly healthy diet, having something that sounded so sickeningly sweet with a cinnamon maple syrup and whipped cream on it as the menu description told you. 

Your mind jumps back to that night with Nate, wondering in that moment what he was doing, who he had woken up next to, where he was spending the morning of his off day. 

Would you have gone further with Nate if Cale weren’t right there? Would you have had anything with Nate at all if Cale weren’t there?

That’s why the diner was familiar to you: Cale had brought you here plenty of times since that day. It was your breakfast ‘date’ place, even though he never actually had an answer for you when you tried to ask him if they were dates. He avoided the question at every chance, never wanting to commit to anything more than that. 

A couple sitting at the other end of the diner, sitting on the same side of the booth, sharing a plate of fries and looked at each other as if no one else existed around them. 

You hated them.

You and Serina somehow ended up at a restaurant downtown that you had never been before, and from the looks of the menu, it made sense why you weren’t there ever. It was way more expensive than any other place you had ever been, even a simple salad being more than what you were really willing to spend on a bowl of lettuce. 

“Why are we here?” you whispered to your friend, slightly mad that she would bring you here without telling you where you were going first. She had to know you would never have agreed to a place like this if she told you ahead of time. 

Serina gives you a look that told you she’s up to something, something that you were sure you were going to hate. “You’ll see.”

“What does that mean?”

“Can you relax? This is supposed to be a nice treat for you.”

“Oh, so you’re paying?”

Serina scoffed, your anxiety spiking instantly. “No.”

“Well I can’t afford this and I don’t think this is a great treat if I’m expected to pay.”

“No, you’re not paying.” 

“Well the only other option is something illegal, and neither of us would survive in prison if we commit a felony.” 

“I don’t think skipping out on our bill would land us in prison.” The entire time, Serina didn’t look up from her menu, your heart racing and the prospect of what she had planned. Her phone lit up on the table, a call from someone you couldn’t make out showing on her screen. “Oh, hey, I’ll be right back.”

Before you could argue, Serina was gone, the phone to her ear and you left alone in a place you didn’t want to be. You start looking around; you could just get up and walk out the door. Serina took her bag with her, so it was just you at the table and your waiter or waitress hadn’t even come over to you yet. It wasn’t illegal to sit at a table for a little bit. They willingly lead you there. 

“Hey,” you heard from behind you, a hand placed gently on your shoulder that still made you jump. 

You turned to see who it was, expecting it to be Serina rejoining you at the table. “Nate?” 

The burger came, no one on the other side of you like there was that night, the couple across the diner still mocking you without them realizing it. You hadn’t expected Nate to show up, for him and Serina to be planning that little swap between the two of them since that night at the party. You especially hadn’t expected him to apologize for not chasing after you that night like he thought he should have. He saw Cale, instead, who asked him why he was talking to you that night, if you had talked before. 

Apparently Cale had dropped the conversation as quickly as it started, the girl he was talking to while you were on the couch with Nate taking his hand and dragging him off somewhere else. 

The food was still sitting in front of you, completely untouched. You check your notifications, your friends still trying to figure out why you up and left the way you did. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t a hundred percent sure. Something inside of you broke when you were scrolling social media, his post shattering your heart in ways you didn’t know was possible. You didn’t know why you were feeling this way, this was just supposed to be a hookup. 

“Why were you with him?” Cale had texted you that he was on his way over, not giving you anything else when you asked him why. As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, he pushed past you, his face red and his voice loud. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Why were you with Nate the other night?” 

“Serina planned a date for us.”

“How could you cheat on me?”

You stood there, shocked, feeling all the anger that Cale was feeling and more. “What the fuck are you talking about? We aren’t together. You’ve made that very clear to me.” 

“We are together. We’re seeing each other,” he tried to defend himself. 

“Really?” you scoffed. “Because last time we even talked about what we are to each other, all we could say was that we liked each other. That was months ago Cale, and all we’ve done is had random hook ups here and there, getting together when you want to, talking to each other when you have the time. If you wanted to be with me, you would have taken me on a date like Nate did fucking ages ago.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? No, Cale, what’s not fair is you leading me on all this time.” 

It was apparently Cale’s turn to scoff, turning his head so he wasn’t even looking at you as he rolled his eyes. “Leading you on?”

“Yeah,” you practically screamed back at him. “You tell me you like me, and then you do nothing to show it. You take me to that random fucking diner and refuse to call it a date, you never take me anywhere, and what about the time when you told me I should fly to Boston to be there for the game on a moments notice? You act like you care about me when it seems convenient for you.” 

“What about you?” he spit back, “We both agreed that this would never be serious, so sorry if I kept my promise.” 

“Get out,” you yelled. You felt tears coming on, and the last thing you were going to do was cry in front of him. 

“I,” he started, taking a step towards you. 

You jerk back, startling Cale in the process. “Get out of my fucking apartment,” you yell again, Cale storming off before you can process what even really happened. You plop yourself on the couch, the shock of whatever that fight was hitting you like a tsunami, letting out a violent sob that your neighbors could probably hear. 

That couple looked so happy. God, it made you sick. 

You pay your tab without eating the food, your appetite leaving you just as fast as you got out of the building. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t recognized all the blue in that building. Cale had taken you on that route who knows how many times before. 

The rest of your drive passes without you actually paying attention. You felt like you were on autopilot even though you were driving somewhere you had never been before. 

The resort your mom had told you about was beautiful, the king bed once you got into your room calling your name. You flopped down on the soft mattress, finally letting out a breath as you felt all your worries melting away. You throw your phone in your bag, hoping that was enough for you to not think about it as you just laid there and relaxed.

Cale had just texted you that he didn’t think what you had could go any further, especially after the fight the two of you had. The worst part? You didn’t care. 

What you did care about was that he had told you by telling you that you weren’t the only person he was seeing. He told you maliciously, as if that was an out for him. You two weren’t serious, it was never meant to be serious after all, just like your friends had said it wouldn’t be. 

You hated yourself for thinking they were all wrong. 

“What are you thinking about?” Serina asked you, pulling you away from the texts that you were rereading for what had to be the hundredth time from Cale. 

“Men fucking suck.” 

“Hey, you found a good one, though.”

You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your sadness from earlier in the day draining your energy more than you thought it would. You only woke up because you heard knocking at your door. 

You groggily shuffle to the door, opening it without checking through the peephole even though you probably should have. 

“Nate?” 

Before saying anything, he pulls you in for a hug, a sigh of relief coming out as he planted a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m fine with you needing to get away for any reason, but next time can you tell me you’re going instead of me having to find out from your mom?” 

“Sorry,” you mumble against his chest, his smell instantly calming you. 

He pulls you into your room, a bag you didn’t notice before dragging behind him. “I’ll leave if you want me to, if you really need to be alone.”

“No,” you say, plopping down on the bed, Nate following suit, “I’m fine with you being here. I like that you’re here.” 

He pulls you close again, his arm around your waist. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” You stay silent. Nate knew you better than anyone, so he had to know what happened. “You saw Cale’s post.” 

You hated that a stupid Instagram post from Cale still had this much power over you. There was no reason why him getting engaged should crush you when you had been dating Nate for almost two years. 

Nate sits silent after you nod, trying to figure out what to say. “He really did a number on you, huh?” You nod, not sure where to even begin with your words. “What does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know.” 

#cale makar #cale makar fic #nate mackinnon #nathan mackinnon #nate mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche fic #avalanche #avalanche fic #avs

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

month-long chronic insomnia flareup got me acting a BIT too HDB-esk so I drew myself some Kims. I have cracked it! (The case of 'how to draw this MF')

feat one Harry, ECHEM, and Kineema that I fucking made up from memory because im not studying that beast

#broke my 5+ year sobriety streak w class As last Thursday. Sigh. #if you got on ave >4 sleep a day for a month you'd probably also go insane #my stupid neighbour's workmen decided to start taking the scaffolding down at HALF SEVEN. AND I WORK NIGHTS!!!! AHHH!!! #anyway....... kim Kitsuragi save me #draw him balding 2k24 #also i am fucking working on DUCKLINGS i promise but the lack of sleep giving me migranes i dont wanna look at a screen too long #im a writer before an artists but im actually rly proud of these- borrowed my GFs brush pens and they're so good holy shit #my hands shaking doesnt matter cos the lines get thicker if i press harder!!!! wow!!! #disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #coupris kineema #breakthrough imminent: post of mine #ignore my tags im losing my fucking marbles fr #anyway this is all in prep because i ACTUALLY wanna draw younger Kim from my fic. like. properly #not just at a safely vague distance lmao

[nachosncheezies]

People like Bill Jr. got all kinds of things wrong about Scully but probably none moreso than thinking it was tragic that Mulder was dragging her along on some descent into madness, when actually the real tragedy was how few of the people she loved ever realized it wasn't a descent.

(It couldn't be bc 1. it's not madness and 2. she was already there.)

#she worked hard to mask it and clearly did a good job #Mulder's gift was he could meet her where she was #I think Maggie knew it I think that's why she liked him immediately and continued to despite all the tragedy that followed #setting aside the way he was right there with her clearly devastated and ready to go berserker on a whole hospital over her daughter #and the unspoken vote of confidence from Scully herself when they found out he was the one who witnessed her living will #'oh he sees through her too. AND she hasn't jettisoned him for it. iiinch-resting.....' -maggie scully probably #i love that relative to the people I knew when I first watched now all these years later i see so many more people #recognizing how incredibly Not Normal this Put Together Human Adult Woman is #this (including above tags) has been in my drafts for weeks thems was fic-readin thoughts #i think i had just started reading AV's henry au and was having a moment over the comments about scully having a recklessness in her #and her self-destructive streak #might've also been incrementum and the part about she's crazy and he loves it bc he's pretty sure he's the only one who knows #also was not long past cancer arc and emily on my rewatch so basically #get rekt bill jr #anyway #notes to self #x files #the x files #scully #bill jr #nachos thoughts

[diningchairs]

this fucking interview from a few days ago where miles keeps listening in on ross and they keep making eye contact is driving me CRAZYYYYY

#THEYRE INSANE #it fits the fic im writing so well #like why are they acting like middle schoolers in their first relationship #also there was another interview where ross is saying that they’re rlly good friends off the ice and they have tons of inside jokes….ugh #THEYRE BOYFRIENDS #ross colton #miles wood #roscowoody #colorado avalanche #avs

[alltaternotot]

Lucky Charm | E. Johnson

Erik Johnson X Fem!Reader

A/N: Inspired by Emily Kaplan’s interview with EJ after the Avs won the Cup. He’s so fine it’s not even funny.

CW: NSFW (blowjob, praise, exhibitionism if you squint REALLY hard), swearing, very limited knowledge of how horse racing/betting actually works, but I gave it a stab. Very VERY lightly proofread, pls excuse any mistakes, just doin this for funsies.

Word count: 2.4K

:)

<><><><>

The summers in Denver were always perfect. It was finally time to relax and enjoy the warm weather after months and months of cold ice rinks and rigorous schedules, for you and your boyfriend both. EJ could finally take a step back from his intense training and long road trips, just for a few weeks, before it was back to the grind again.

You worked as a senior consultant in a successful Denver design firm, which was also the reason you met the tall blond. He commissioned you to design his newly renovated kitchen and living space, and invited you to enjoy a glass of wine with him when all was said and done. He had given you a soul-sucking kiss on the way out the door that night, leading to the best years of your life so far.

You were high up enough in the company now, around four years down the line, that you could somewhat make your own schedule. You followed Erik’s schedule most of the time. You would work hard in the months he was on the ice, and take a few weeks in the summer to enjoy the sunshine and your boyfriend.

That’s how you found yourself here, sitting on the shaded patio, watching the water in the backyard pool ebb and flow in the breeze and reading a new book leisurely. There was nothing like enjoying the soft sound of the water and a good book to pass the time.

You shared a routine during these days. He would join you outside with a tray of food and special cocktails he liked to make, spending the day reading or playing cards with some music on. On race days, especially the ones his horses were entered in, he insisted on sitting outside with a cigar (because there was no way he was getting cigar ash on his indoor furniture) with the back door open, plus sitting on the part of the sectional that faced indoors so he could watch and still enjoy time with you.

Today was a race day, and like clockwork, you could hear Erik open the back door, the sound of the TV in the other room coming through, and his footfalls coming up behind you. He leaned against the back of the deck sectional you were seated in, squeezing the back of your neck and laying a gentle kiss on your head.

“How’s the read?” He asked, coming to sit down with a tray of sandwiches, fruit, and the drinks.

“S’good so far, I’m about halfway through.” You answered, popping a raspberry in your mouth and flipping the page, “any news on MacKinnon yet?”

Horse racing was something that seemed to escape you interest-wise. You thought the horses were absolutely stunning, but the pedigrees going back to the dawn of time and the betting Erik liked to partake in were a bit much for you. He loved it though, so you kept up with his horses at least. You had met them all on trips to California and listened to his explanations about why they were so elite, all while petting their velvety noses and giving them carrots, completely losing the conversation after their grandparents had been brought up.

“Nothing yet, the race starts in 20ish minutes. The announcers have high hopes for him though.” He said, picking up the cigar and his little silver guillotine strait cutter, “his money pool is up to 30k right now, could be a big day for us baby.”

He put the cigar into the guillotine and clipped the end off, pulling out his nice zippo and holding it up. You loved how he looked lighting up his cigars, holding the cigar between the teeth he still had and gently grasping it with his hand. You loved the way the little fire would reflect on his sunglasses and cast soft shadows on his face. Every time he blew a puff of smoke out, it made you want to melt into a puddle, but you would never tell him that.

“That one smells pretty good.” You remarked as he leaned back, pulling you up against his side, the scent of tobacco and spice wafting around you.

“I think so too. Naz gave me a few after the parade.” He said, looking up towards the tv for the stats of today’s race.

You admired his profile as he looked at the standings, watching his eyes dart across the screen behind his sunglasses and the tendril of blond hair sticking out of his backwards ball cap. You admired his nose and his cupid’s bow, watching as he blew out more smoke and let it billow around him. You quickly learned to love the way his lip fell flat where his teeth were missing too, despite your friends feigning concern for your future make-outs. You loved everything about Erik really, but moments like these really did something to you. You thought you might get caught looking for too long, so you turned back to your book and dove in once again.

Your books were to you like Erik’s horses were to him. You loved romance novels most of all, you could laugh at the worst of them and squeeze your thighs together when they got good. You learned new things about yourself because of them too, Erik more than willing to try new things when you brought them up, on the rare occasions that you did. You weren’t the most adventurous in the bedroom by any means, but you had a few things you particularly liked when Erik did or helped you do.

This particular book was on the thigh-squeezing end so far, the slow-burn where the main character falls in love with the handsome rugged cowboy (who also happened to have an affinity for cigars) after finding herself stuck in a podunk little town. It had gotten very hot very fast. Images of a tall dark and handsome man pushing the main character up against a barn door and finally kissing her after 15 chapters went flashing through your mind. You continued down the page, imagining the clothes coming off and the sloppy kisses leading up to a risky, almost-public blowjob. He topped it all off with blowing cigar smoke into her mouth while she trembled under him.

Suddenly, your skin was on fire, and you were hyper aware of Erik’s fingers gently stroking up and down your arm, and the way he looked smoking that damn cigar. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, and you breathing became more ragged and shallow.

You craned your head up and placed a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Your hand found his chest as you tried to sit up a little more, but Erik lifted you up just enough for a proper kiss, letting his hand fall on your shoulders, the other holding onto the cigar so he wouldn’t burn you or get ash on you.

“What’s this for baby?” He said, reaching out for another kiss, “your heart’s beating a million miles a minute…” he continued.

“Cant I kiss my boyfriend? I just felt like it…” you said, albeit with a ragged intake of breath.

He smiled a knowing smile, “did your book get good baby?”

“I just wanna kiss you…” you repeated, and he obliged with a few more kisses, noting the way a blush crept up your neck and turned your ears red like it did when you asked him to try something.

After the kiss slowed down, you laid down on the sectional, your head resting on Erik’s thick thigh. His eyes shot back to the tv again, observing the standings again. You tried to focus on your book again, but your mind traveled back to the blowjob up against the cowboy’s barn, and him blowing smoke into the main character’s mouth, your thighs squeezed together again. Erik began running a hand through your hair, brushing your scalp with his fingertips.

You placed gentle kisses on his thigh and began to slowly slide off the sectional, not wanting to take too much of Erik’s attention off the tv. You brought a pillow down with you, putting it under your knees so they wouldn’t scrape against the concrete of the patio. You reached for the knot holding his shorts up, and he inhaled sharply, his hand flying down to caress your face.

“Baby…” he said, and you continued trying to take the knot out of the tie, “baby you wanna do this now? Here?” He said, gently holding your chin so you would look up into his gaze.

You never wanted to do anything outside before now, you had a lot of anxiety about the media seeing you and Erik doing NSFW things and ruining both of your careers. He had asked before on a couple of occasions, but you found a way to steer things inside with the blinds shut. You were almost completely secluded here, it was the off-season, and it would take a real scumbag of a media person to show up at the house for a juicy scoop.

“Yeah, I want you so bad…” you said quietly, “you look so fucking hot with that cigar…” you admitted without thinking.

“You like the cigar huh?” He said, pushing his hips up so you could pull his shorts and boxers down just enough for his dick, already half hard from a few kisses and touches.

“You have no idea what you do to me with that damn thing…” you said, pressing kisses to the cut of his hip and his happy trail.

He groaned in playful frustration, spreading a little more so you fit better between his thighs. You finally grabbed his dick, running your closed hand up and down. He moaned and reached for your hair, running his fingers through it again. You stroked him until he was fully hard, watching the muscles tense under your touch.

You ran your tongue along the underside in a fat stripe, letting your spit coat his dick. You took the head in your mouth and sunk down slowly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t take. He fisted your hair, pulling back strands so he could see your face.

He loved looking at you when you blew him, there was nothing better. He loved watching his dick disappear into your throat and how expertly you took him. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, and saw he was slack-jawed with his eyes rolled back, absorbing all of the sensations.

“Mmm baby, you look so pretty taking me like that…” he said breathily, “holy fuck your mouth feels so good.”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his dick and bringing him that much closer. He had to control himself from fucking your throat. Everything about this was hot, the sight of you on the ground for him, the wet sound of your spit, the way your mascara was starting to run in the corners of your eyes.

He watched and waited for you to look up through your eyelashes again, then took a deep inhale of the cigar and blew it out, still holding onto your hair. The smell of the cigar just heightened everything further.

Suddenly the sound of a bugle announcing the beginning of the race, and a shot accompanied by the gates holding in the horses swinging open drew your eyes to the tv. You looked up to Erik again, watching his eyebrows slightly raise as MacKinnon pulled forward by a few feet. You took him out of your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin and all over his dick, and you took a moment to breathe while you stroked.

Focusing back on Erik, you knew he was close, you could feel his hard muscles tensing. His moans were getting higher and a little louder, but not too loud, he knew that would make you nervous about people noticing. His hands ran through your hair and gently held the back of your head when you took him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, eliciting a sharp whine from him. He took another puff of the cigar, sending you into a somewhat feral effort to get him there.

“I-I’m so close baby! God you feel amazing!” He said, watching you take his dick, “you’re so good for me, treating me so well…” he praised.

You sucked gently and bobbed your head a few more times before he finally shot his load down your throat, letting you swallow it. He moaned and writhed above you, tightening his grip on your hair before letting his fist loosen so your hair fell down around your face.

You leaned your head on his thigh and took a few breaths, trying to regain some composure. Seeing you like that always made his heart skip a beat, hair tousled from his hands and lips swollen and glossy. You even had a little speck of black soot from the cigar swiped across your cheek.

He hiked his shorts back up and offered his free hand. He pulled you up to straddle his lap, taking a deep inhale of the cigar again, watching your eyes and your swollen lips. He kissed you, letting the smoke fall out of your open mouths. You were both breathing heavy as you relaxed chest to chest, head falling into the crook of his neck. He rubbed soothing circles into your back as you tried to regain your breathing.

“Holy shit! Mackinnon’s about to break into first!” Erik said somewhat tiredly, and you turned around to see his beloved horse pulling forward in the final stretch of the race.

You both cheered as MacKinnon crossed the finish line, effectively winning Erik 30 thousand dollars and more bragging rights to his racing friends. You leaned down and kissed him again, not trusting yourself to get up and stand on your jelly knees quite yet.

“We should break open a vintage bottle tonight baby, we’re celebrating!” He said, standing up with you wrapped around his waist, “you’re my lucky charm baby, maybe we should do that for every race!” He joked.

“Trust me E, I can get on board with that… just keep that cigar around…” You teased, and he laid a deep kiss on your lips.

He walked you both inside and laid you down on the couch, tray of food and drinks (and the cigar) long forgotten. His hands already traveling down your body and in your hair.

“Let me show you now much I love you, my lucky charm.”

#Erik Johnson #Erik Johnson imagine #EJ fic #Colorado Avalanche #Avs fic #pls come back bestie we miss you #T’s imagines #nhl fic

[wyattjohnston]

looks a lot like forever - erik johnson

series: only all the time

word count: 1,655

note: for the anon who asked for gwen/erik domestic fluff! i hope this is what you were after :)

Gwen was on cloud nine when she arrived home, not even bothered that she struggled through the door hindered by shopping bags up to her elbows. They were her shopping bags, though, so complaining would be hypocritical.

Despite Erik’s car being in the garage, the house was dark and silent. Gwen headed straight towards their bedroom, knowing that she’d find him either in the shower or passed out on the bed. She got her answer when she heard the water running in the bathroom.

She dropped her bags on the bed, starting to empty them out and put away her new wardrobe while she waited for him to appear—and he did so about ten minutes later laughing at the bags littering the floor.

“Successful day?” he asked, walking towards her with just a towel around his waist.

Knowing that he wasn’t just making fun of her shopping spree, Gwen let a smile take over her face, “Yeah, I think I’ve found The One.”

She had gone full steam ahead with wedding planning; picking and asking her bridesmaids before the month of June was over and starting her search for The Perfect Dress as soon as they were settled back in Colorado; she’d seen too many brides take months to find their dress and she didn’t want to leave it too close to the wedding.

“Can I see it?”

Gwen hummed, wrapping her arms around his waist, her fingers disappearing below the top of the towel, and tilting her head up to silently ask for a kiss. Erik obliged without hesitation.

When Gwen pulled back, she smiled sweetly and said simply, “No.”

She patted his bare chest and moved to step away completely, only for Erik to catch her by the waist and pull her back in. His speed and his strength never ceased to amaze her, and, even though she rolled her eyes playfully, she let it happen.

“No?” he asked, the pout on his face small but present.

“It’s bad luck. You know that. Besides, it still needs to be altered and will need to be altered closer to the wedding. In the photo it’s pegged together at my back.”

“You know it’s The One, though?”

“Mel cried,” Gwen admitted, somewhat deliriously. “She hasn’t cried about any other dress.”

Erik laughed, “I’m a fucking goner then, aren’t I?”

Despite not being able to attend Mel and Gabe’s wedding, Gwen had been slated for a bridesmaid spot and thus had been present for all the activities being a bridesmaid entailed—including the dress shopping. Gwen had cried the second she saw Mel in the dress that would end up being The One because of how clear it was on Mel’s face that she'd found exactly what she was looking for. Mel had assured her that it was the same reason she’d cried seeing Gwen’s dress.

Gwen kissed Erik again and then directed him towards their closet so that he could get dressed, with a gentle reminder that they needed to think about leaving for the Landeskogs’.

She went about cleaning up the bags and tissue paper that had come from her shopping and joined Erik in the walk-in robe so that she could take in her wardrobe and what she needed to cycle out.

“Give me a hint?”

"It's white."

“Yeah, alright. I deserved that,” Erik conceded.

They were heading to the Landeskogs’ to look after Linnea and Lucas so that Gabe and Mel could go to the basketball—a horribly boring date in Gwen’s mind but some would probably say the same about her and Erik using their free night to look after someone else’s children. They didn’t often take on babysitting duties because there were young adults, and teenagers truthfully, who were much better suited for it, but it was fun when they did do it.

They inevitably taught Linnea at least one new behaviour that Gabe complained about—the most memorable and persistent being Linnea laying on her back on the hardwood floors so that Gwen and EJ could take turns spinning her in circles.

Gabe was insistent that the second Erik had a kid he was in for hell.

Linnea was waiting for them at the door, bouncing up and down in the window. She could be heard babbling and asking for the door to be opened, waving at Gwen and Erik enthusiastically. As soon as it was open, she was throwing herself at Erik who was ready to catch her.

“I don’t think people come here to see me anymore,” Gabe said, watching on as Gwen leaned into press loud kisses to Linnea’s face as she giggled and wriggled in Erik’s arms.

“We’ve never come here for you, you know that,” Gwen said, even as she kissed his cheek. “Where’s the love of my life?”

“Luke’s room. He’s being fussy because he knew you were going to come in and insult me.”

Gwen smiled, sarcastic innocence etched over her face, and left to find Mel and Luke.

The wailing coming through the hall as she got closer to the room let Gwen know that Gabe wasn’t lying about Luke being fussy. It was a sound that, to be frank, made her less sad about delaying having her own children, especially when Mel had described the colic both kids went through as newborns.

Mel frowned when Gwen walked into the room, where she was carrying Luke around in her arms, “He’s been like this all day. I really thought we were over the temper tantrums.”

“It happens,” Gwen said, holding her arms out to let Mel know she could handle Luke over if needed. “Everyone needs a good cry every now and then.”

Mel passed Luke over, rolling her shoulders. “I shouldn’t leave you to deal with this.”

“Yes, you should,” Gwen insisted, twisting away from Luke’s screams. “Go get your jacket and get out of here. He’ll see Erik and it’ll be fine.”

There was no argument from Mel there, because everyone knew that Erik had magical, baby calming powers. Before Mel left, she hugged both Gwen and Luke.

Gwen started bouncing Luke up and down, begging him to at least scream quieter before he burst her eardrum. Luke didn’t seem to care. When it was clear that there was no settling him down, and after Gabe poked his head in to say goodbye and apologise that Luke was already fussy and then hadn’t gone down for a nap which made everything much worse, Gwen sought out Erik.

He was gleefully playing with Linnea in the living room, a tiny, tiny table set up with a plastic tea-set with Erik sitting awkwardly at it. He looked up instantly at the sound of Luke’s crying, and he reached out to take him from Gwen.

“He’s so loud,” Linnea huffed, dropping her teacup to cover her ears with her hands.

“I know, hon,” Gwen said, helping Linnea to her feet so she could take her out of the room and away from her screaming brother. “I think it’s snack time, don’t you?”

Linnea’s mood lifted and she instantly forgot that she’d ever been annoyed at all.

They both stood in front of the open fridge, scrutinising the contents—Gwen knew that they would inevitably order pizza for dinner so whatever Gwen was going to prepare was going to be something like carrot sticks but a distraction was a distraction.

Luke’s crying could still be heard but it was more subdued, proving that Erik was as much a miracle worker as Gwen expected him to be. Erik brought Luke into the kitchen when he’d quietened down entirely, leaving the loudest sound being Linnea crunching away at carrot sticks.

“You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” Gwen said, peering down at Luke who was fighting to keep his eyes open in Erik’s arms.

“Our kids won’t be this loud,” Erik said assuredly. “Do you want to put him to bed while I organise dinner?”

Gwen hummed, gently taking Luke, and tilted her face up to Erik for a kiss, which he gave her. Before she left, she said, “My big strong man providing for me by making a phone call.”

“Even better,” Erik said, leaning into the joke and pulling his phone out of his pocket, “I’m going to order it on an app.”

“Swoon,” Gwen said as she fanned herself.

“What does ‘swoon’ mean?” Linnea asked, just in time for Gwen to duck out of the room and leave Erik to come up with something that would both make sense and not get him in trouble.

Gwen very much loved getting to spend time with Linnea and Luke, yet she still enjoyed the time when they went to bed and she and Erik sat on the couch together more.

It was horribly domestic, even if they were watching basketball, knowing that at any moment they could be interrupted by a child in need of attention. It rarely happened—both Linnea and Luke were kind enough to wait until their parents were home to rouse—and even if it was mildly annoying, it had Gwen dreaming of her own future.

Erik nudged her, gently, during a break in the game, and Gwen leant closer and hummed to let him know she was listening.

“What if I don’t want to see you in your wedding dress at the same time as everyone else?” he asked, solemnly. “What if I want it to be just for me? Can we make everyone stare at the altar?”

“That sounds a bit bridezilla-y,” Gwen said, cringing. “People do First Look photos. Before the ceremony, we meet in a little secluded place and it’s me, you and the photographer—there doesn’t even have to be a photographer there, I guess—and that’d mean that the only people who saw me before you were my bridesmaids.”

“We should do that.”

“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

#erik johnson fic #erik johnson rec #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #only all the time fic #fic: avs

[bhxrdy]

hold on to me | sihtric

author’s note: Some of you have requested a part two to the previous Sihtric drabble I did (hold my hand). It took me a moment to figure out how to continue and hopefully what will follow will not disappoint - hope you will enjoy :) Lots of love & stay safe 💕

      “What are you doing here?”

She almost tripped on her dress at her sight, making her drop some apples from her basket while startled by the man standing in front of her.

He had dismounted his horse, holding onto the reins as he quietly approached her. He tried to come up with something to say, some sort of a lie but the thoughts died in the back of his throat. Seeing her so close to him, after all this time, was overwhelming.

“Sihtric?” Her voice called out to him again, not having realized she was waiting for his answer.

Startled, he forced words out of his mouth. “I-I just-I just wanted to make sure you were faring well.”

“Are you spying on me?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, not at all. She wasn’t mad or annoyed. She was simply curious.

She hadn’t seen his face in three years; she never thought she would see him again.

Especially not after how they left things.

But there he was, standing so close to her, they were barely at an arm’s length. She could feel the tremors of her heartbeat, the vibration resonating across her body. She tried to look away from him, not courageous enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes ended up on his horse, her hand reaching for the animal as she started to caress the bridge of its nose.

All the while standing in silence, he stared at her, completely enamoured in her presence - as always. His heart was pulling towards her, racing to catch her.

She eventually shifted her head back to him. When she did, her breath stuck to her throat by the way he was looking at her. He could have devoured her simply by his eyes and she knew she wouldn’t fight it.

Gravity pulling them in, he reached for her hand. Their fingers grazed each other, the skin burning as they intertwined.

She closed her eyes and let out a gentle breath, squeezing his hold as a way of not letting him go. It was to make sure that his presence was real, that it wasn’t another dream.

The summer breeze was sweeping through the air, creating a delicate dance for the fallen hair strands on her head. She kept her eyes shut, too afraid to open them just for him to be gone.

Only when he lifted her chin up, could she see him again. A faint smile painted his lips, a gesture that left her heart swelling in desire.

The soft murmurs of the nuns around them brought her back to reality. She turned her head to see a couple of them whispering between each other, wondering what was going on.

Suddenly feeling exposed, Aelyth pulled him away from the nunnery’s main entrance, away from the prying eyes, and brought him into a secluded area towards the gardens where they could be alone.

     He had been searching the entire village for her, not finding her anywhere within the walls. His heart was pounding between his ears, fear almost crippling him entirely.

It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the earth.

The worse of scenarios had taken hold of his mind as his feet ran back and forth through every space and corner that held Coccham.

It had only been a week since they returned - since they were both free of his father’s grasp. He knew it had been a difficult transition, that she was having a hard time moving on and so he did everything he could to stay by her side and carry her through her recovery.

If it meant spending the night under the same roof to save her from her nightmares, or hold her hand whenever he could see her shaking and cracking at the rim, then he would be there, without hesitation.

She hadn’t said much since he found her in the woods; her thoughts had gripped the use of her tongue, binding her voice in the process and leaving her mute.

Not that she minded.

She would scream if she could.

Out of rage for her years in captivity, out of relief for her freedom - out of anything, really.

Sihtric was still pacing back and forth until his feet led him outside the walls of the village. He marched to the docks and looked around, his eyes carefully peeling every surface visible.

Then, he spotted her.

On the other side, she was sitting by the water, her back pressed against the trunk of the oak tree that stood tall; her figure, so small, could have been swallowed within its body.

He went to her and quietly sat down while she was facing the river, her mind drifting.

“Aelyth.” The tone was spoken with such softness, it might as well have been said in her head.

She felt his presence next to her but couldn’t gather the courage to look at him. Her legs bent against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, he tried reaching out for her hand.

She didn’t let him, quickly pushing herself away.

Startled, he apologized, meaning no harm in his gesture.

She sighed, knowing it was true - it was just a force of habit.

He let her settle, taking a moment before speaking. “Why are you here?”

She took a second before answering as she needed all her strength. “I needed space… And quiet. The village is too loud.” She turned her head to him, apologetic. “Sorry.”

His heart squeezed from her pain. “Don’t be. It’s okay.” He spotted flowers by her side, beautiful and small delicate white floral arrangements around the tree. He picked a few, enough for the smallest of bouquets, and handed them to her. “If you ever need space again, leave these at your door so I know. Please.”

She took a look at them, before her eyes turned up to him; she sensed fear in his voice. She accepted his proposal, taking hold of the blossoms. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just started walking without knowing where I was going. I just needed to get out…”

He silently observed her. Her form left him to worry, more than usual. He never expected a miraculous recovery, but he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was a least getting better slowly, a little bit freer - bit by bit.

His eyes never left her; she was back to watching the water, stillness resuming between them.

The moment was not left to be uneasy; a strange peaceful air flowed around both bodies. She didn’t mind his presence - he wasn’t overbearing, which she appreciated.

She felt him shift next to her only to find a dagger in the corner of her eyes.

“Take this.” She turned to look at the weapon, her eyes glancing between it and him. “To keep with you in case you need it.” She wasn’t sure what to make of it. The last time she held a knife was seven days ago, the night of her escape - the night she was willing to cut her heart out.

Sensing her hesitation, he proceeded to speak again. “I promised to protect and care for you. But in case you need your time alone again, you have this.”

She didn’t take it, not daring to touch it just yet. Instead, he let it rest by her side right on the grass.

She stared at the dagger, her heart rate increasing a little bit.

She was contemplating something; he could see creases forming on her forehead.

“Thank you.” Once more, she looked at him. “For sticking with me… I know I’m a lot to handle- I’m a lot-” She wasn’t able to finish her sentence. Rather, she jumped to say something else. “I’m still scared they will come back for me.”

His heart broke a little bit more.

The way she was looking at him, the way her hues were drowning with such dismay - he hated himself for her state.

He reached for her, carefully tucking a hair strand behind her ear. She doesn’t frightened at his touch. It was comforting. “No one is ever going to hurt you. I swear it.”

All she could muster was a nod.

Another moment had passed, her eyes never straying away from him this time. He was mindlessly stroking her cheek; the kindness in his touch sent shivers down her spine.

She leaned into it, enjoying the warmth on her skin. It had been so long, she almost forgot what it was like.

“May I?” His inquiry was spoken so softly, it was almost a whisper.

She nodded; he moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss on top of her head as she settled quietly in his embrace.

She closed her eyes, letting solace travel through her body.

    Sihtric tied his horse to a tree branch, letting the animal feed on the apples that lied at its feet.

Turning back, he found Aelyth sitting in the shade; he took his place next to her, both of them sitting in utter silence where the quiet wind floated around them.

They let the hush moment speak first, as both were trying to come up with their own words.  

She had been fidgeting in her seat, playing with the small golden ring she wore as she looked down at her lap; his gift to her, years ago.

It wasn’t their first time staying like this, without words to share.

But as it had been so long since they last saw each other, the moment was unalike others. It was stiff, uncomfortable.

    It was one of those nights - the ones where sleep eluded her. The restlessness had driven her out of bed, looking for her friend.

It had only been a couple of months since her liberation from Dunholm - months where she remained frightened. The only solace she could bear in her new life was Sihtric, and for tonight, that’s who she needed.

He had led her away from the village, outside of its walls for the comfort of their own little space by the water. In the dark, the moonlight shining above them did not feel so threatening as it once did; only because he was with her.

They still hadn’t spoken, the silence was enough for now. Taking her hand, he brought her to their tree and sat down, wrapping his cloak around them while she wrapped her own over their legs, warming their bodies against the cool night of the season.

The chirping of the insects had their rhythm, adding some melody to the quietness around them while the atmosphere of the village had become simple background noise.

“May I?” She looked at him seeing him stretching his arm out.

He was asking for permission to hold her.

She nodded, a shy smile covering her lips as she approached him. He placed his arm around her, tugging her close against his chest as he made sure she wasn’t growing cold between their covers.

He was the only man that could touch her without revolt; he was the only man she allowed close enough to even share the same breath.

She could’ve stayed this way forever, always in his arms.

She loved his warmth - it had become more than a simple sense of serenity; the affection that pulled her in ran so deep into her soul, she could not live without it anymore.

She had seen something similar during her stay in the village, between Uhtred and Gisela. She had seen it as well with her late parents, before her entrapment.

She never thought she would survive long enough to be able to want it, let alone to be able to grasp it. But now knowing that she was here, that she desired something of that sort - to be wrapped in something so pure, uncensored; to be vulnerable to someone you care the most in this forsaken place. All she hoped was that such feelings would help her get through her nightmares. That with Sihtric, she would be able to keep such desire close to her heart.

And so, she held on to him as she breathed him in. The movement made him smile, resolute to stay still so no abrupt gesture would scare her off, though temptation rung him for wanting to simply look down and catch her eyes.

She tightened her grasp on him and the world seemed to have stopped moving around them.

He loved it.

He wanted to cherish it.

They spent the night like this, eventually falling asleep under the stars as the open night sky engulfed them in her beauty.

They were in their little bubble - nothing else mattered.

    He looked down and noticed how nervous she felt; the stress was reciprocated on his end.

He wasn’t expecting today to be the day they would speak.

It wasn’t his first time traveling to Wincelcumb to see her. He had done the trip every other few months simply to check in on her, silently spying and making sure she was alright.

There was an easiness he had grabbed hold of knowing she was okay, even though it had been shadowed by heartbreak.

She was getting better on her own, without him by her side as he had promised three years ago.

She had left him, running away to find contentment somewhere else, somewhere far away from him.

It shattered him into pieces, silently tearing him down.

    It had been six months since Dunholm and she had reached her breaking point.

With whatever belongings she had, which wasn’t much, she was preparing a bag - ready to leave.

And through her clothes, she found the dagger Sihtric had gifted her. The sight caught up to her, her body halting. She could only stare at the knife as the lump in her throat grew and tears covered her eyes.

She picked it up and held it close against her chest, silently crying to herself.

Even though it was something she had to do, she was still hurting.

She breathed in deeply, swallowing down her self-pity and proceeded to finish her packing as she moved a little bit faster and tucked in the weapon neatly with her stuff.

They had argued a few days prior, right before he needed to leave. She picked a fight with him on purpose, just so he could stop caring for her the way he had in these last few months.

She adored him for having been patient and kind, for supporting her through her worst even though all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and disappear, but it had created a strain in his day-to-day.

Which is why she had to let him go.

She was a misfortune in his life, a stain that needed to be rubbed off, that needed to vanish. She saw herself as a burden forced on to others, on to him; the adjustment to her new life was still taking a toll on her, never fully recovering as ghosts were lurking about in the shadows, dragging her down in the mud.

It eventually and slowly became worse, her state deteriorating.

Everything was still overwhelming, suffocating her even though she had the freedom to breathe in peace.

She was riding away from the village, Hild accompanying her after having begged for help. Aelyth had taken the opportunity of his absence to run for the hills.

Unfortunately, her timing did not work as she had hoped. Right behind them, another horse was approaching. She grew worrisome, thinking the worst. The closer it got, her heart broke.

Sihtric had caught up to them, confused and devastated.

They were forced to a stop, calming down the animals. He ran for her, panting from the race. “Gisela told me you left-” He then got off his horse, walking to her. “W-Why?”

She had backed away at his approach. He ignored her sign and grabbed the reins, forcing her down to her feet.

Hild let them have their goodbyes, moving away.

Aelyth sighed, still trying to distance herself. “It’s for the best, Sihtric. I can’t stay in Coccham.”

“Of course you can- you’ve been doing it, you can stay-“ He was baffled, not comprehending what was happening. “This is none sense, just come back and we can fix this-“

“No.” Her answer hit him like a boulder crashing down. The way she had spoken had shocked her as well, never meaning to be rude. She let out a breath, calming herself down. “I don’t belong there. It is not my place.”

“Then what about me?” Pain flashed across his face. It was as clear as the bright sky they were standing under. “Forget Coccham.” He took a step forward, and this time she stood still. “What of me? Am I not enough for you to stay?” The way he was looking at her, with such an ache, so distraught - she felt small against his stance.

She tried to stay indifferent, to carry on as if he wasn’t affecting her, but she knew her dried throat was threatening to reveal her true feelings. “I-I’m better off out of your life.”

“Do you really believe this?” He grew annoyed - why was she so adamant at pushing him away? Of suffering in silence and on her own?

“Yes.”

Lies.

“Is it because of Dunholm? Are you running away because of him?” His agitation was apparent, fear coursing through him at an alarming rate. Could she have grown to repel him? “Do I scare you because I look like him?”

“You look nothing like him. I don’t see him in you. I swear it.”

She finally approached him as she placed her hand on his cheek for reassurance.

He never looked away from her, his eyes following every little expression that covered her face. “I just have to do this for me. I need to get better and I don’t think staying here- I can’t stay. Sihtric, please try to understand.”

“But I don’t understand.” He was losing the battle, defeat hovering over him like a grey cloud. “Aelyth, I’m begging you. Talk to me. You can trust me.”

He reached for her, pressing his forehead against hers.

Tears tickled the corners of her eyes, silently rolling down her cheeks to his hands. “I know I can, but it’s not enough…” She wasn’t able to look at him, her stare only fixated downwards. “Not now.”

“Don’t g-go. Don’t-” He wanted to tell her not to leave him, not to run away - to see reason and just come back with him.

He knew it was futile though.

He was crumbling under heartbreak, every crack echoing through his bones.

He could barely stand up, the fear of never seeing her again gnawing at his very soul.

He heard a sniffle. She was trying to compose herself, trying to clear her mind. “I feel like I’m suffocating- and its unbearable. It’s just too much too fast, all of it-” She held onto his armour, her fingers grazing the little pendant he wore. “I can’t stay knowing I’m holding you back with the others.”

“But you’re not-” He interrupted her, forcing her eyes to him.

“Yes, I am. I can see it.” She broke their embrace, slightly pushing him away. “You’re splitting yourself in two and it’s not fair to you or the others. You’re a warrior and you have duties- you have a life of your own to live. You can’t put that on hold for me.”

Her words rendered him speechless.

How could she not see how wrong she was? He had the support of his brothers - they understood her predicament, and never wavered in the way he held her close to him.

His life was hers. His heart belonged to her.

He was hers, body and soul.

She placed a soft kiss on his left cheek. She lingered, her lips then hovering above his skin before she turned to face him, one last time, and taking in everything she could.

Her fingers had held his other cheek before they trailed down to his lips. It was a careful touch; she just wanted to feel them, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to succumb to the desire that trembled in her chest.

He silently watched her, his eyes following her as he held back on his own tears. He pulled her in, desperately wanting to kiss her; the faint touch of her lips hovering above his was pushing him over the edge.

She knew she would never be able to leave had they kissed.

And so she stopped him.

She loved him dearly but knew in her gut she would surrender her reasoning and stay in his arms.

A hitched breath to her throat, she reluctantly turned away from him, not seeing the frown and clenched jaw he faced as her scent lingered on him.

She was letting him go. She took back her horse and left him standing in the middle of nowhere as she rode away.

    He never gave up hope.

He still prayed to the gods that one day she would come back.

He wanted to love her, to be able to touch her without fear, to hold her against him, to kiss her. He wanted to simply cherish her like she deserved to be.

For the time they spent apart, the years that split them up had left a visible gap between them. A crack that could be difficult to mend. It was like the earth shook and cracked its skin in consequence. Only a special remedy may possibly heal it back to health.

For what seemed like forever, their moment of solitude had been cut by her sudden height; she had gotten up from her seat, slightly troubled as she tried to form words on the tip of her tongue.

She knew she had a lot to answer for, but where to start?

Sihtric watched her as her back faced him, not being able to see the tears in her eyes as they threatened to fall.

She eventually let out the breath she had been holding. She shut her eyes and let go.

“I-I thought that running away- I-I-” She could barely finish her sentence, she was shaking. She could feel it in her hands as her heart raced against her chest. She gripped her dress tightly, trying to stabilize herself.

He got up from his seat to meet her; he needed to look at her. Feeling his presence, she turned around and opened her eyes.

The second she saw him, she wanted to cry.

“I thought that leaving would help with the ghosts… That if I learned how to be on my own, then I could-” Her thoughts were rushing inside her head, each word wanting to come out like a waterfall. She could barely keep them straight. “Being around too many people all at once was too much. Coccham was becoming too much for me.”

She started to play with the ring again, twisting it back and forth as her anxiety had taken over, not stopping her rambling. “And I sometimes felt I was maybe better off being back to t-that, back at Dun- because I just didn’t know what to do with myself-” She held in a sob when the letters she wanted to spill were clawing at her throat, wanting their way out.

“I was a burden you didn’t have to carry. I put a weight on you so heavy, something you didn’t ask for and-”

“You were never a burden.”

He cut her off, letting her catch her breath.

“I wanted to be by your side, I wanted to care for you. I wanted to- I cared for you. I still do. I always will.”

She dropped her head, embarrassed and timid. He kept going, wanting to say his piece. He needed for her to understand how he felt, how hurt he was by her absence. “I wanted to take that pain go away, to make you feel better. To hold you close to me and erase the nightmares, the fear that clung to you. I wanted to keep you safe and protect you… To love you.”

He had said it; it wasn’t meant to be said, but it was out in the world. Now, all he could do was hope, pray, that his words resonated with her. “Come home. Come back with me.”

She couldn’t say anything; tears were sliding down her cheeks. The way he was begging, how he clung to each of his words, had sent an ache deep within her.

“I miss you…” He placed his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Standing so near to him, she could see his eyes shimmered; he was on the verge of breaking down in her arms. “I-I need you with me. You can hold on to me.”

He leaned forward until he brushed the tip of her nose.

His breath danced against hers, their lips tickling. “Aelyth…” The despair - the pleading tone of his voice, the love he held for these combined letters; she closed her eyes and shuddered at the way he said her name. If she could swallow that sensation and keep it close, she would.

She missed his voice.

She missed him in his entirety; regret had seeped in the second she saw him. And now, a storm was brewing inside her, every wave hitting her with a sense of loathing.

She hated herself for what she had done; how could she have run away when what he was offering was what she needed? By walking out, she had been left with the ghost of him, haunting her, hovering around her; her skin would shiver at the simple thought of missing him, his shadow so close to her.

Her fears had forced him out of her life. They overruled her through most part of her life, dictating every move and sentiment that ever embodied her. It held such power, it was like she was falling into another hole, creating distance between them.

And yet, there he was, holding on for dear life and grasping at the smallest conviction that a lifeline existed, still connecting them.

    They hadn’t moved.

Feeling the exhale of his breath against her own, the sensation sent warmth across her body. She was taking him in, every ounce of him. It was feeling him against her that made her breathe again.

He was holding on, desperately, drawing in her presence against his own as he nestled closer against her, too afraid to part.

He was in pain, grief stricken. The way it painted his eyes, colouring his hues with such misery gripped at her.

And she was the cause of it.

Her heart rate accelerated, the lump in her throat attacking her and forcing her to crumble.

“Forgive me.”

It was a whisper, from her mouth straight to his.

To the gods, did he miss her.

The way she held him, the way her knuckles had whiten from the violent grasp of his clothes; he could feel the guilt and remorse bleeding out of her, from her tongue and down her body.

He sensed his heart breaking; her pain had reverberated right through him.

There was nothing to forgive, he thought. He couldn’t bring it up to say it, to even reassure her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She waited for his answer, for his voice to create sweet symphony to her ears.

Instead, he nudged his nose lightly against hers. It was just enough to feel his lips ghost over hers.

She tilted her head further against him and closed her eyes when he reciprocated the gesture.

He held on, his fingers caressing her tears tainted cheeks.

And ever so gently, his lips pressed against hers.

So chaste, and soft. That’s all it was; a shy movement of the heart.

She was about to pull away, void of air.

He didn’t let go; instead he seized his opportunity and kissed her once again.

He had been waiting for this moment for so, so long, ending it would have been cruel.

She yielded to the touch, all the tension in her body vanishing.

The moment was tender as it was passionate. It was years of pent up feeling, of longing for one another, of desperation to claw out the darkness and bathe within the warm sunlight.

His body trembled against her touch; succumbing to his affection gave him faith that she would not let go of him. He felt it in her posture, in the way she pushed her body to his, wanting to feel every fibre of his being against her own.

This moment was for her, realizing that she had love for him - a sentiment she was bullied to repress, close to oblivion. It was forced into hiding, trapped by the torment that haunted her mind.

They were lost in the moment, the energy between both bodies having been wrapped so tightly they had forgotten their reality.

It was the noise of his horse that tore Sihtric away from her, the tail swashing the couple back to Wincelcumb; he reluctantly let her go as a timid giggle escaped her.

From the smile on her red lips to her rose coloured cheeks, she was a sight to behold. The sun looked good on her as it decorated the upward curves of her lips as well as the glint in her eyes.

He breathed with ease, the pain starting to mended as the golden traces were covering the cracks in his heart, the heat melting while flowing through him.

The agitation for his horse forced him out of her embrace. He grabbed onto the reins, calming the pet as his mind drifted. He couldn’t stay for much longer, knowing he was waited on. He swallowed a breath as he turned to her. She had watched him with curious eyes, the smile having fainted from her lips.

“I have to go…” She frowned. The smallest of sentence had violently shaken her, lies of hope pumping in her blood.

“I’ll be gone for a while, maybe a few weeks. But when I come back-” As fiercely as it came, it went away. Her heart rate decreasing, peeling away the anxiety that was glued to her skin.

“I’ll be waiting.” She answered the unasked inquiry, already knowing the response from the pit of her stomach. Her breathing grew heavy from anticipation of the day he would already be coming back for her, even though he hadn’t left yet.

He smiled at her words, not able to look away from her. “Does it mean-”

“Yes.” She exhaled the letters as she leaped, wrapping her arms around him. Her face resting in the crook of his neck, his scent had seeped its way to her bloodstream, burning her cheeks.

His chest vibrated against hers, a chuckle having come out of his throat. He embraced her, tightly holding on before they parted.

He searched for her hand, his fingers slipping to find hers. He brought their hold up to his lips, placing a kiss on the her dorsal side.

Such an innocent gesture was still met with devotion and adoration; his eyes captured her with so much love, she could drown in them forever without needing the escape.

Her life was his. Her heart belonged to him.

She was his, body and soul.

And she would wait for him to come back, to come for her once again.

No matter how long it took.

----------------

part 1 | hold my hand

xoxo,

#the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric x oc #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic #Photo by Ave Calvar on Unsplash #tlk fanfic #mywriting #arnas fedaravicius #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric kjartansson

[sushisocks]

something nobody tells you about writing your own fic is that once it's finished you can actually just.... read it? and it's filled with your favorite ships and tropes and has a story you enjoy, because you wrote it! wild!!

#ficposting #rdr2 #AV #teki talks #finished AV and had a couple days off before feeling like i wanted to read smth and wouldnt you know it!! #there are whole ass fics catering to what i wanna read -- on MY profile!!! wowowow. truly blessed #anyway rereading AV just for pleasure and not to obsessively double-check a phrase or detail or edit out mistakes has been an experience #am having fun though. i wanna write more once i have the motivation/inspiration heehoo

[lilydalexf]

Looking for a fic I read a few years ago where they had kept William and he had some powers. He was maybe 10 or so? There was a pet cat and a casefile. I think the Gunmen were in it but can’t remember for sure. Definitely Margaret Scully. Any chance that’s enough to go on? 😬

Sounds like you're probably looking for Dryad by @aloysiavirgata. It's a very good casefile with a young William, a cat named Scorn, the Lone Gunmen, Maggie Scully, and of course Mulder and Scully. Its summary: Family fic, meet casefile. Casefile, meet family fic.

There are also some fics in the same universe: A Heart of Star, untitled fic #1, and untitled fic #2.

#fic mystery #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #anon #asks #AV please tell me if i missed some dryad fics!

[silverdune]

this siren song is not your calling | c.sn

"you were supposed to be no different.."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: fantasy/horror

character(s): choi san (ft. you as a seafarer)

tags: siren!san, seafarer!reader, captain!reader, ships, ocean, san has a tail (merpeople), scales and webbed fingers, angst, one cuss, mild gore

word count: 879

summary: choi san is a proud siren, one who has been watching and waiting to capture you for a while. but when he finally tries, something strange occurs..

a/n: ik this is quite short, i just thought of this concept the other day and wanted to write it; lmk if you're interested in an expansion? i'm up for writing more if you want to see more :)

He thought he had had you wrapped up from day one.

That's what he likes to believe anyway.

Choi San was a proud siren, chest in the air without a single thought paid to the hearts that became his trophies. Every sailor that attempted to parry his advances found themselves beneath the depths of his ocean plinth and the beating organ in their rib cage became another plaque on his figurative wall.

You were supposed to be no different.

Your ship had passed by many times, and he had taken note of your schedule once he caught on to how often you would take this exact route. Once San learned you were the captain, just from observation alone, a smirk appeared on his face. You would be his first.

When your ship passed through this waters for the dozenth time, he clambered forth onto his rock and waited for your approach. His pupils shifted to daggers, much like the shape of his teeth, his webbed fingers shimmering against the moonlight as water trickled down his hands.

He had done this so many times before; San had laughed to himself as he watched your ship glide across the waters. This was going to be easy.

Pushing himself up over the rock, he licked his lips a few times, ready to sing the song that he had rehearsed many times for this occasion. No one else would hear this song - this was for you and you alone.

Opening his mouth wide, a whistling cry sprung from his larynx, causing the ocean around him to ripple within an inch of its life. You could mistake the effect for a major thunderstorm or tornado, a testament to the sheer power in his lungs and voice.

Your ship continued to sail as if unaffected by the song. San thought to himself that in mere seconds you would be veering towards him, completely bound to his will and unable to escape. He was beyond excited to add your heart to his collection.

And yet, you sailed on by, remaining undeterred, and to that, he stopped.

His lips almost quivered as they sealed shut. He shuddered against the rock, disturbed by the fact that nothing had come of this attempt to allure you.

Glancing up, his cerulean eyes burning like an eel in the murkiest depths, he screamed again, but it wasn't so melodic as it was mangled in his defeat.

San had failed to enrapture you. He had failed to take your heart.

A loss so cruel it sent his boneless body back to the water.

But San did not intend to give up. He was going to have your heart, one way or another.

The next time you appeared, he did the same thing again, but this time made his presence better known. He was unmistakable, his tail a brilliant forest green, his shoulders brandishing well kept scales of a burgundy hue.

San glared across the waters, watching and waiting for your ship to be within reach. When he saw you take to the bow and hold a telescope to one eye, he opened his mouth to sing once again.

That was when you pointed your telescope directly at him.

Through the telescope, you spotted the siren on the rock, and upon closer inspection, dropped the telescope overboard and into the sea.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed. You almost threw yourself over trying to grab it, and just about managed to with your legs halfway in the air. The balustrade was nearly piercing your skin with how hard you were holding on, and the blood rushed to your head in seconds.

San shut his mouth and shot up, back completely straight. His eyes grew wide when he saw you.. and for some reason, he felt an urge to do something.

All caution, thought and sense was thrown out the window when he dived into the ocean and swam at great speed towards your ship. The second he got to you, he popped out from beneath the surface of the water and looked up at you.

Your jaw dropped.

As did his own.

No, no, no..

San did not have time to think about this. He brought a hand out of the water, splayed his fingers, then pushed his palm out, which sent you flying backwards over the railing and onto the deck of your ship.

The landing was sudden and unpleasant. The telescope was still firmly in your grasp. Your crew was rushing over to help.

Every voice blurred and melded into one big cacophony of noise.

The only thing you could see in your mind was the siren.

What was more horrifying was that.. you knew him.

San..

San didn't even return to his rock. He instead disappeared to the cavern where he often resided when he wasn't taking in the sun or the sights of his potential targets.

The tears were plain to see, even in the water.

Your name looped incessantly in his head even as he willed it to leave him be. Your face was now the only picture and it made him scream into the ether.

Now he understood why you did not respond. His siren song could not have persuaded you.

For your heart had already been his once before.

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost. ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san scenarios #san imagines #san x reader #words.(ave) #fic: this siren song